


Dirty Bad Wrong

by JediMordsith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Accidentally unhealthy relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication Failure, Competency Kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, GFFA politics, Light Bondage, Luke and Mara find themselves the hard way, Oral Sex, Please Read The Author's Note First, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, an actual look at how the Smugglers Alliance worked, mention of a 9/11 type event
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 86,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: One year after the Thrawn Campaign, Luke and Mara each find themselves on the edge of precipice, fighting to save their careers and the lives they’ve worked so hard to build. Taking comfort in one another holds everything else at bay, for a time. But when pressures mount, they risk losing themselves and one another, too.
Relationships: Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 332
Kudos: 136
Collections: Luke Deserves All The Blowjobs





	1. Author's Note

Dear Readers,

The bulk of this story was written nearly three years ago, now. It began as a collaborative project and stalled when the other writer dropped out. For more than a year, it languished in my drafts as I worked on other projects and waited to see how things would fall out.

At the beginning of 2020, before I had any way to know what chaos the year would become, I told myself that I would post _Oracle_ and then dedicate myself to cleaning up DBW for posting at the end of 2020 or the beginning of 2021.

Real life being what it has, that plan derailed, caught on fire, and sank into the swamp. 

Now, facing down the end of the year, I have been forced to reevaluate where I stand. Recent changes to my health and the associated demands on my time make it impossible to polish DBW into everything it has the potential to be.

 **Rather than returning it to the oubliette of my drafts folder in vague hope of someday doing it justice, I am choosing instead to post it as is.**

Within these chapters, you will find rough spots, dropped plot threads, and other imperfections. You will also find gorgeous angst, beautiful hurt/comfort, and delicious smut. Perhaps most importantly, you will find a complete story — no cliffhangers here!

I will be posting DBW roughly one chapter per week for somewhere around the next 30 weeks. If this isn’t your style or the raw state of the fic doesn’t work for you, no hard feelings. If you choose to read, I hope the good things about this fic jump out and capture your heart as fiercely as they still captivate mine.

In all cases, May the Force Be With You.

— JediM


	2. Ch 1

_“At 0200 this morning, standard planetary time, CSF completed its recovery of bodies from the Palace. The final death toll, including those individuals who have tragically taken their own lives in the wake of the Incident, sits at_ _117_ _beings.”_

Mara glanced briefly at the [enormous holo-screen floating](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/5c/f4/25/5cf4253abd8da0783b17a9b1befa1802.jpg) overhead as she skirted another of the three-meter-tall [milkstone](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Milkstone) blocks that lined the concourse in stately rows. The silver statues atop the bases reflected the first pink rays of the sun, obscuring the screen’s image. Not that it mattered — every screen hovering above the plaza framing the [Senate Building](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Senate_Building/Legends)’s Eastern Annex was projecting the same holo-cast. A few screens down, she got a clear enough view to identify the grim-faced human male giving the press conference as the Commissioner of [Coruscant’s Security Forces](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Coruscant_Security_Force/Legends).

 _“With this critical milestone achieved, we are preparing to move into the next phase of our investigation in partnership with the Provisional_ [ _Municipal Authorities_ ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Coruscant_provisional_government) _. Beginning today, the esteemed beings of the Inquest Commission will begin taking statements from parties of interest. Approximately two weeks from now, the facts derived from those statements will be presented to the public as part of a formal Hearing into the scope, causes, and appropriate responses to the Incident.”_

Mara only half-listened, already mentally reviewing her agenda for the day. Coruscant was the agreed-upon center of the galaxy and there was no disputing that the recent Temple bombing was the most trauma the planet had experienced since the brief but violent civil war that marred its handover to the New Republic two years ago. But the Smuggler’s Alliance was the polestar around which her personal world revolved. By necessity, she lived and breathed the intricacies of Mid- and Outer-Rim commerce. There simply wasn’t any time for engaging with every planetary crisis that came along. Or much else, for that matter.

Slipping under the shadow of the broad dome that capped the drum-shaped Annex, Mara spotted a knot of Bothans approaching from the East and hastily quickened her steps. The new security procedures — implemented at all government buildings in response to the Incident – were inconvenient. Getting stuck in line behind a Bothan was a nightmare.

The Security queues were always short at this hour – one of the many benefits that made the sleep she lost to arrive so early a worthwhile sacrifice. Proper planning simplified the ordeal, as well, enough that Mara had given a lecture to her staff the week the protocols went into place on how to maneuver through them with a minimum of fuss. Now, following her own advice, she dumped the small bag she carried into the waiting bin, exposing sealed transparent packets carrying her datapads, commlink, cred chips, and jewelry. Her i[denti-chip](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Identichip/Legends) she handed to the Wookiee manning her line with a polite nod. She pointedly pretended not to notice the way he sniffed her when handing it back. At his signal, she stepped forward onto the dot pasted to the floor. Placing her hand on the provided pad, she stood loosely still as four different types of scanners independently examined her and her belongings. A faint pinch at her palm indicated that a microscopic blood test was being run to screen for intoxicants, poisons, and other substances of concern.

Finally, the Wookiee’s human partner indicated she was clear and Mara stepped forward, scooping her things into her bag with practiced efficiency. She pressed her lips into a thin line, squashing the impulse to scowl as one of the Bothans she’d narrowly avoided being caught behind announced loudly at the next station over, “I will not be insulted!” 

Shaking her head, Mara strode down the corridor, fishing her chrono and earrings from her bag and slipping them on as she walked. Thousands of holo displays lined the corridor and her eyes skittered over their surfaces as she waited for the lift. 

_“The New Republic continues to offer its full support for the coming Inquest.”_ On the nearest screen, Chief of State [Mon Mothma](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mon_Mothma/Legends) stood regally behind what looked to be the same podium the CSF Commissioner had manned. _“We extend our deepest condolences to those devastated by this tragedy. I personally lost several long-term and beloved colleagues, and I feel your pain as my own.”_

Mara’s [comlink](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Comlink/Legends) chimed at the same time as the lift and she snatched it out of her bag as she hustled inside, the news reports evaporating from her mind. It was a textcomm, and the screen read simply _K:_ _Problem._

Frowning, Mara typed back, _In the lift. Be there in five._

She made it in four. Klinu, her [Cerean](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cerean/Legends) office manager, was behind the main desk, a [circular](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/66/f2/a5/66f2a511dfe2090506472dc8963866e4.jpg) [roo-wood](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Roo-wood) edifice that dominated the center of the reception area. She still wore her jacket, her bag slung carelessly on the seat of her hover chair as she bent over the console, punching in commands. 

“What happened?”

Klinu looked up, her long, sleek black braid falling over her shoulder and the wrinkles of concern on her high, tapered cranium smoothing at Mara’s arrival. “Senator Foryk is in the line.” She gestured to the comm system. “He’s extremely upset. The shipment of [plethl nitrate](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Plethyl_nitrate) didn’t arrive.”

“That can’t be right.” Mara stalked toward the [enclosed transparisteel cube](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/23/e9/da/23e9da19435f3260748175ff0a1373f1.jpg) in the back right corner of the suite that was her office. “I spoke with Sunil yesterday afternoon — everything was on schedule.”

“That’s just what he said. I’m trying to get a line on Sunil now.”

Mara bit back a curse and made herself inhale deeply. She let the breath out slowly as she pressed her hand to the [palm reader](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Palm_reader) on her cube door. “All right,” she ordered briskly. “Put Foryk through to my office. Keep working on Sunil.” Dropping her bag out of sight in a drawer, Mara slid into her synth-leather lined chair and composed her expression into something professional and pointed. 

“Liaison Jade,” the [Christori](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chistori) senator sibilated the instant the commlink clicked open. His beady eyes glared through the holo over his large purple-and-yellow snout. “I demand an explanation as to why you are denying my people the medical materiel they so desperately need.”

“My people are tracking the shipment as we speak.” Mara injected cool confidence into her words, unfazed by the mouthful of sharp teeth Foryk bared while hissing at her. “I have no doubt that whatever delays the crew encountered, they will complete the delivery as promised soon.”

“ _Soon_ is not good enough!” Foryk snarled. “My people are _dying_. We must have those medications.”

Mara resisted the urge to rub the bridge of her nose in irritation and bit back the sharp reply on the tip of her tongue. She knew full well how urgent the situation was. She had personally rearranged four separate shipments to expedite the transit of the precious plethl nitrate as soon as the NR Relief Corps had it ready to go. But once it was aboard ship, it was almost entirely up to the carrier to see the delivery through. Routine as space travel was, it was still subject to the unexpected and uncontrollable, just like everything else. But, of course, Senators thought themselves above such mundane inconveniences. 

“I understand,” she made herself say, calmly. “And we are investigating the delay as we speak. I’ll provide you with an update as soon as I have more information.”

A second line on her comm board started blinking – Klinu had news.

“You don’t even know —,” Foryk started.

“Excuse me, Senator. I’ll be in touch.” Mara shut off the comm with a decisive flick and rose, a few steps taking her back out into the main office. “What did Sunil say?”

“I couldn’t reach him.” Klinu was shrugging out of her jacket, finally, and bent gracefully to stow it in a concealed cubby within her desk.

“What?” Mara darted forward to grab one of the datapads on the desktop. She punched in her access code and toggled to the screen detailing the latest shipping schedule. “The _Hawkbat_ was due out of hyperspace two hours ago. There’s no reason they should be out of reach.”

“I checked the Sector Sec records,” Klinu straightened, her sloped brow furrowing. “They checked in at the sector border on time, but they’re not responding to any of our hails.”

“What the kriff?” Mara muttered, skimming the information again, looking for something she’d missed. “Did the scanners register any damage? Problems with their comm systems?”

“Nothing in records or latest uploaded ship notes. I could check —.”

“Do that and get back to me.” Mara tossed the datapad back on the desk. “I’m going to initiate Plan B.”

She returned to her office, fuming. _Perfect._ [Talasea](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Talasea) had erupted in an epidemic and someone had helpfully “volunteered” the SA to ferry critical supplies when thegovernmental relief organization in charge couldn’t swing the trip. The Trade Bureau had been delighted by the unexpected opportunity to build goodwill, and now some random breakdown on a mission that wasn’t even supposed to be theirs in the first place was going to mar their hard-won reputation for reliability and efficiency.

Resuming her seat behind the worktable she used in place of a desk, Mara scrolled through her list of contacts and opened a new line on her comm.

“Yonyur.”

“Identification code is four-three-eight-seven-oh-four.”

“Ah,” the rough voice perked up into a coarse rumble. “What can we do for the boss?”

“We have a ship in the sector that needs to make it to Talasea.”

“It’s bad down there,” Yonyur grumbled, disapprovingly.

Mara set her teeth. “We know that. The ship -- a [CEC YV-545](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/YV-545_light_freighter) light freighter with the name _Hawkbat_ is in the sector. It isn’t answering our hails and we suspect it has sustained damage of some kind. You’re the closest. Go take a look at it. If there is some sort of mechanical issue, take the nitrates down-planet yourselves.”

“Payment?”

“Upon delivery,” she said automatically.

“That’s not how this works.”

A year in, payment arrangements were still her carriers’ biggest complaint, every time. She gritted her teeth and pushed back. “Yeah, well, that’s how work for the NR works.”

“We have pay-in-advance privileges with Karrde,” the [Aqualish](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Aqualish/Legends) wheedled.

Klinu’s line was blinking again.

“Do it or I'll make sure you lose those privileges and more,” Mara snarled. “Comm once you’ve established contact. Sector Sec won’t give you any issues.”

She slapped the line closed and keyed up Klinu’s. “Hold all my comms until we get this sorted out. Make sure Sector Sec has the right codes to let a —,” she pulled up the schematics of Yonyur’s ship, double-checking her memory. “[YU-410](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/YU-410_light_freighter) light freighter going by _Nostromo_ through on Priority Status. There won’t be time for the usual nonsense. Yonyur’s going to track down the _Hawkbat_ and get us to the bottom of this. What's the word on Sunil’s comm status?”

“The same.”

“Great,” Mara rolled her eyes. “Then it’s a waiting game now.”

* * *

_“With this critical milestone achieved, we are preparing to move into the next phase of our investigation in partnership with the Provisional Municipal Authorities. Beginning today, the esteemed beings of the Inquest Commission will begin taking statements from parties of interest in this Incident. Approximately two weeks from now, the facts derived from those statements will be presented to the public as part of a formal Hearing into the scope, causes, and appropriate responses to this Incident.”_

Luke stared out the cloudcutter’s wide, angular windows. Despite the obscenely early hour, speeders zipped by en masse, their shapes distorted by the [privacy field](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Privacy_field) emitters embedded in the building’s frame. Behind him, there was a ‘click’ as the broadcast muted.

“That’s it, then.” Leia’s fingers drummed on the edge of the long, polished [body-wood](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Body-wood) table. “It’s official. Two weeks.”

“Indeed.” There was a shuffling of [flimsi](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Flimsiplast/Legends). “Doubtless the summons for Master Skywalker to give a testimonial statement will arrive within the next few hours.”

“Summons or request?” Leia asked, sharply.

“I’m not going to refuse.” Luke turned around, his mouth slanting into a frown. “We’ve been over this.”

“Yes, and you haven’t listened a single time!” she snapped, her looped braids swinging against her shoulders as she leaned around the tall, thickly padded backrest of her fine white-nerf-hide chair to glare at him.

“I believe everyone is clear on the basic principles.” Ru Baruba, lead counselor of the legal team Leia had retained on his behalf, interceded calmly. Seated at the head of the table, under the chyron scrolling beneath the silenced holo—news, the [Bith](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bith/Legends) cocked his bulbous head. “The Inquest will spend the next two weeks gathering statements from parties of interest. That testimony, along with official reports and recordings will be compiled and presented at the public hearing, at which point relevant experts may be called to provide context and insight.”

“And then the Commission will decide whether or not to press formal charges against anyone and everyone involved,” Leia finished, grimly.

“Yes. The Commission may elect to press charges in the planetary courts if they believe the evidence suggests crimes were committed or severe dereliction of duty occurred. Or they may simply recommend courses of action for moving forward.”

“But Kyp’s protected,” Luke reminded them, starting to pace again.

“For the time being,” the counselor allowed, steepling his long, knobby fingers. “The latest reports from Mr. Durron’s care team indicate that he is incapable of offering testimony or being prosecuted in planetary courts at this time.”

“And if I testify — give a statement,” Luke ignored Leia’s pursed lips and the way her sense in the Force was fuming at him to stop talking, stop pacing. _Be still._ He couldn’t. “They’re more likely to leave him out of it.”

“Are you _trying_ to get yourself hung?” Leia demanded.

“The New Republic isn’t going to hang its only Jedi,” Luke’s lips twisted, a hint of bitterness biting at his tongue. _Then they wouldn’t have anyone to trot out for their bantha-and-anooba shows._

Baruba’s eyes scrunched in the closest his species could make to a grimace. “While you are right to assume no one will cast aspersions on you lightly, Master Skywalker, you must remember that this is not strictly a New Republic matter. The Inquest is legally in the hands of planetary authorities. The beings overseeing the upcoming proceedings have different…” he paused, tactfully. “…perspectives on Jedi than those operating in the galactic governmental spheres in which you are accustomed to treading. They are also more uniquely sensitive to the vagaries of local public opinion.”

Luke turned on his heel, boots sinking into the abstractly patterned, high-pile carpet as he stalked back in the other direction. “Meaning what?”

“Hypothetically,” Baruba said, bluntly. “They could argue for your prosecution on multiple grounds.” His cheek flaps ruffled as he made what Luke took to be an unhappy expression. “You were, however unwillingly, Mister Durron’s Master and his designated legal guardian at the time of the Incident. You are also on record as vouching for the safety of the Imperial Palace —.”

“ _That_ is not going to come up,” Leia interrupted, fiercely. “Even if it wasn’t _completely_ ridiculous to suggest that Luke could possibly have vetted the Palace alone -– it’s more than 20,000 rooms – we simply cannot bring up ancient seals and Sith Lords in a public Hearing. The result would be pandemonium.” 

“Then what do you suggest I tell them?” Luke flung his arms out. “It’s a matter of record that I was there –- that _Kyp_ was there. CSF —.”

“If I may,” Baruba interrupted. He waved to the pile of datapads resting beside him. “I would like to suggest that for the time being we continue to abide by the protocols of the last two weeks.”

“Hurry up and wait,” Leia summarized with a frustrated sigh.

“Yes.” The Bith placed a consoling hand delicately on her wrist. “CSF will forward the request for Master Skywalker’s testimony here. My team will review it and discuss whatever limits are necessary with the appropriate parties. We will then guide Master Skywalker through his answers. Until then, there is nothing to do but wait and keep our silence.”

* * *

Hands planted on her worktable, Mara leaned over the sprawling holo-schematic illuminated over its gleaming surface. Narrowing her eyes at the two red blips in the center, she reread the data hovering in small, blocky green lettering above them.One foot tapped a staccato rhythm on the worn [pleekwood](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Pleekwood) floor.

Real-time trackers cross-triangulating with public [Sector Security](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sector_Security) records put the _Nostromo_ within range of the _Hawkbat_. A small cluster of yellow dots around the _Hawkbat_ told her the ships weren’t alone but did nothing to identify who the other parties involved were. She eyed the comm unit, mentally running through and discarding possible scenarios.

She jumped to open the line — it wasn’t coming through audio-only channels — the instant the comm light blinked. “Did you make contact?”

“Sort of.” Yonyur’s normally gruff voice was noticeably more taut than usual.

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” Mara glared at the comm unit, knowing full he couldn’t see her.

“I mean we _found_ them,” he snarled back, “but Planet Sec is all over ‘em. Wouldn’t let us dock or take the meds or even talk to anybody.”

“Planet Sec?” Her stomach clenched. What in the hells was going on?

“I thought there was an agreement,” the former smuggler accused. “Sec’s not supposed to be on us if we’re registered, now.”

“Those are the rules,” she snapped, testily. “I need more information –- what did Sec say? _Exactly_?”

“Scram,” Yonyur growled. “They pointed laser canons at us and told us to scram.” His tone sharpened with a distinctly nervous edge. “Looked a lot like how it used to be.”

“If you want to say something,” Mara bit out, “say it.”

“I’m saying me and my crew didn’t sign up to be strung along,” he retorted, then backed off, his tone turning wheedling. “Look, I know this whole Alliance business is still new, and we all know the NR ain’t making it easy on you. But a deal’s a deal — Sec wasn’t supposed to be involved. We agreed —.”

She didn’t have time for this. “The agreement _stands_. Whatever happened —.”

“Obviously, it doesn’t,” he interrupted, flatly. “And I don’t like it. You take my ship off your list. The Boss wants something, he can call us himself.”

The line closed with a ‘click’. Mara stared at it, speechless, before a surge of fury had her jabbing a new code into the unit.

“Senator Foryk’s office,” a pleasant voice lisped. Young and male by the sound of it — new to the planet, if the being’s esses still hissed off its reptilian tongue that unselfconsciously. 

“This is Liaison Jade of the Smuggler’s Alliance. I need to speak to the Senator.”

“I’m sorry.” The aide made a regretful tsking sound. “The Senator is out today. May I take a message?”

 _Out._ Mara scowled at the comm. If she’d had any doubt Foryk was tied up in whatever the hell had happened to the _Hawkbat,_ she was certain now. Still, politics were politics, and she modulated her voice toward calm sweetness. “Please have him contact me at his earliest convenience. It’s a matter of some urgency — he’ll know what I’m referencing.”

“Of course, Liaison.”

Mara closed the line and gripped the edge of the table, fighting the impulse to flip the whole thing toward the wall. A familiar knot in her gut told her that this was far worse than it looked. The Force had never done her much good, but it was always happy to tell her when things were about to get worse.

For a fraction of a second, she considered comming Karrde. She rejected the idea just as quickly. The Alliance was her responsibility — Karrde and his clout were an emergency backup measure, and there was no reason to call on them, yet. She didn’t even know what she’d tell him, anyway. 

No, the first order of business had to be sorting out what was actually going on. There could be no response without workable, documentable information. Taking a deep breath, Mara shut off the projector and stalked out of her fishbowl office. Glancing toward the far side of the suite, she did a quick assessment. The warren of small cubbies in which her team worked clacked, pinged, and hummed with activity — at least her beings _here_ were reliable.

“Any word?” Klinu looked up as Mara approached.

“ _Nostromo_ bailed,” she answered, flatly. “Take them off the carriers list.”

A startled look crossed the Cerean’s face, but her hands were already moving over her keyboard. “And the _Hawkbat_?”

“Some kind of run-in with Planet Sec,” Mara reported grimly. “Foryk’s involved, I’m sure of it.”

Klinu frowned. “What could he possibly —,” she cut off as her comm unit chimed. It was a signature ring that indicated the message was urgent. Quickly keying it up, she paled. “It’s from Senator Tevv.” Another few taps and a static holo projection materialized between them. It flickered as privacy field settings shifted up to maximum. Dread curled under Mara’s ribs.

 _Epidemic Worsens in the Morobe sector_ , the chyron read. A grim-faced Christori spoke into a floating [microphone droid](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Microphone_droid), the recording framed by the massive med center looming behind him.

“Unspeakable tragedy unfolded this morning in the skies over our beleaguered planet,” the reporter intoned, solemnly. “Mutiny ripped through the New Republic ship carrying desperately needed medication intended to forestall the vicious epidemic that continues to ravage every corner of the globe. Planetary Security forces valiantly intervened, but were unable to reach the ship — a freighter we’re told flies under the designation _Hawkbat —_ before the mutineers savagely destroyed over half the shipment, condemning thousands of innocents to an agonizing death.”

Mara’s stomach plummeted and her muscles instinctively locked, keeping her still and upright, her expression blank even as her mind reeled. _Mutiny?_ She _knew_ Sunil — he was a fair captain. There was no cause for his crew to turn.

“While we are still awaiting confirmation from Planetary Security, initial reports indicate that several of the mutineers were killed in the altercation. Trill-Osk-Nen Holo-News teams have already been in contact with Senator Foryk, acting on behalf of our people on Coruscant, and his office offered us assurances that it is taking every possible step to address this tragedy.”

The clip vanished, leaving Mara to stare at Klinu’s pale, horrified face. _Mutiny._ The word hung between them like a specter, and Mara closed her eyes against it. _Not now._ This couldn’t be happening now. Not when things were just starting to be _stable_ — when she was starting to brush her fingertips against the targets she’d worked so hard to reach.

This couldn’t be happening.

* * *

“You sure you don’t want to try some of these?” Han asked from inside the apartment. “Vagnerian canapes are all sugar — should be right up your ally.”

“No thanks.” Luke didn’t turn from where he leaned with his elbows on the balcony’s wide stone balustrade. Compliments of [Coruscant’s weathernet](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Coruscant_WeatherNet), a cool evening breeze ruffled his hair as he stared out over the distant mass of lights that was [CoCo Town](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/CoCo_Town/Legends). The district was steadily brightening as he watched, more and more of its late night-oriented businesses coming to life as the sun sank behind the [Mannarai mountains](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Manarai_Mountains). 

[500 Republica](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/500_Republica/Legends)’s innumerable and extravagant security measures meant there were few speeders in the vicinity to mar the view and, aside from an occasional faintly silvery shimmer, the protective privacy shield that safeguarded the balcony was so discrete it may as well have not been there at all. It would be a good place for the twins to grow up. He just wished Han and Leia had been afforded the option to choose for themselves if and when to move — not thrust into it by the sudden and violent destruction of their apartment in the [Palace](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Imperial_Palace/Legends).

“You know I’ve got orders to feed you,” Han commented, coming up behind him.

“And to debrief me, I’m sure.” Luke sighed. He heard his friend settle onto one of the thickly cushioned benches curving around the perimeter of the balcony behind him.

“You know she means well.”

“Yeah.” Everyone meant well.Luke half-heartedly rubbed his temples.

“I took the twins to the _Falcon_ today,” Han announced, abruptly changing the subject.

An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of Luke’s mouth and he rewarded his friend’s effort by finally turning to face him. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Don’t want them to forget her.”

Luke chuckled. “I don’t think that’s likely.” He leaned his elbows on the balustrade. “Leia hasn’t stayed on planet more than six weeks at a time since those two were born. Mon’s sure to have her off on another diplomatic mission any day now.”

Han shook his head lightly. “Nah, she wants to stay planetside for a while.”

“It isn’t necessary.” Luke shifted his gaze back to the [skylanes](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Skylane/Legends). His sister didn’t need to risk her political ambitions to shackle herself to Coruscant on his account. He didn’t want her to.

“We’ve been talking about it for a while,” Han continued easily, waving a dismissive hand. “Before the Chandrila trip.” 

[Chandrila](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chandrila/Legends). The Trade Summit, where they and the twins had been when the Palace was decimated. It was probably wrong to be so grateful his family had been completely spared when so many innocents had died, but Han, Leia, and the kids were all he had.

“You know how busy she is,” Han shook his head. “I got the _Falcon_ the best comms but it’s still not the same tryin’ to keep up from another system. Besides, the twins are getting old enough that they’re not just sleeping through it all anymore.” He made a wry face. “Makes it a lot harder.”

Luke folded his arms across his chest and tipped his head, fighting the smile that threatened while he poked holes in Han’s story. “But you took them to see the _Falcon_ anyway. For _their_ benefit.”

“All right, fine. You got me.” Han gave him a lazy grin. “It was for [Nanna](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Nanna)’s sake. I was thinkin’ more exposure might calm her down a bit.”

Luke snorted. The YVH1 droid’s response to the _Falcon_ and the myriad of hazards it potentially presented to the two precocious infants in her care was legendary. “How’d that go?”

Han’s grin slid straight into a smirk. “Perfect. I had to test the new intercom system we put in, you know… so I played ‘em their favorite song. On loop.”

Luke let out a laugh, the tension that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his shoulders easing for once. “The techs didn’t all quit at being tortured with _Fly, Fly, Spaceling_ over and over?”

“For what they make we could probably run it on loop every day.”

His lopsided smile made Luke’s heart catch. This was what they’d fought for — what life was supposed to be, now. Family and laughter. _Safety._ Not this mess it had all somehow become. He swallowed the stab of pain and resentment. Mustered a derisive snort. “No one gets paid enough for that.”

“Well,” Han rubbed his chin. “I _might’ve_ turned off the outside speakers. Kept it all internal. Privacy, you know.”

“So your reputation isn’t completely demolished yet.”

“Nah.” Han’s voice turned musing. “Takes more than you think to ruin a reputation.”

And just like that they were back to the debrief he’d been tasked with.

“Can’t ruin a reputation overnight, no matter what anyone says,” Han pushed. “When you’re known…”

“Like my father was known?”

Luke turned away again, brought his hands to the railing, feeling the planed surface of the stone cool against his palms. His eyes idly tracked a light zooming across the face of a nearby cloudcutter — a patrol, probably. They’d doubled in the last few weeks.

“Look, Kid,” Han’s tone softened. 

“Don’t. Please.”

“You’re not your old man.” It was firm, this time. Serious. “An’ what happened wasn’t your fault. They’ll see that — everyone will.” 

“They’re not going to _see_ anything,” Luke shot back, frustration spilling over. “Except an out-of-control apprentice and an incompetent master.” He looked over his shoulder, mouth flattening into a hard line. “They’re trying to gag me, Han — trying to cover up the truth, give everyone a more palatable version.” He shook his head. “It feels — it feels like I’m back in the conference room when they handed Kyp to me in the first place. I tried to tell them, you know. What I needed — what I was worried about. They didn’t listen. Now…” He waved toward the darkness where the [Palace district](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Palace_District) sat blackened and silent like a charred corpse left propped as a warning in a town square. “They won’t even let me help.”

“You don’t wanna be there,” Han countered, sternly. “Whatever Durron opened up —.”

“You know what he opened. I told you — you and Leia both.”

“Yeah,” Han in. “An’ I believe you. But I ain’t stupid.” He pointed a finger at Luke. “I’ve listened to you two talk about Endor. And Alderaan,” he reminded. “About stains, in the Force.” He shook his head. “Let it settle, Luke. Let everyone else do their jobs and give people a chance to heal. Find their balance again. Push now and you’ll just be tweaking the [gundark](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gundark/Legends)’s ears.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Luke admitted quietly, after a while. “None of it was supposed to be like this.”

“I know.” Han stepped closer, clapped a brotherly hand on his shoulder and squeezed, his own eyes drifting off to the skyline. “I know.”

* * *

The [maglev](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Hovertrain/Legends) was sparsely populated by Coruscant standards when Mara finally left the office and made her way toward her apartment. Normally, she took the line to [Old Galactic Market ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Old_Galactic_Market)and walked from there but, with her head full and her body buzzing with stress and frustration, she got off at the Spaceport South stop on impulse and walked, hoping the cool air and exercise would clear her head. 

The hasty staff meeting she’d held ensured that none of her direct reports would be chatting to the media, but there was nothing she could do about Foryk’s staff or anyone else who might be in the loop running their mouths. Not being able to lock down information was a persistent hazard in the New Republic’s operational sectors. She’d learned that first thing.

 _First thing._ Mara frowned to herself and shoved her hands deeper in the pockets of her cropped jacket, old habit keeping her eyes roving around the walkways, subconsciously monitoring for threats even as her surroundings otherwise blurred around her in an undifferentiated smear of lights and beings.

She’d formally launched the Smugglers Alliance just barely a year ago, now. Wrangled it to fully operational status even more recently — not because she wasn’t good at her job, or for lack of effort. It was just that cultivating any sort of network took time. It had been the work of months just to create a structure that was rigid enough to satisfy the New Republic and flexible enough not to scream _trap_ at the smugglers she was recruiting into her ad-hoc shipping enterprise. 

_Seeding goodwill,_ she’d been told by a Trade Bureau officer her first month in the job, _is always an uphill battle._ Understatement of the century. Even Karrde’s people, who knew her — _respected_ her — were wary and skittish, even now.

Karrde. Her scowl deepened. She’d tried to reach him repeatedly but all attempts had been fruitless. He was busy, she knew that. And this wasn’t really his problem. Everyone had placed the SA squarely in her hands… and then backed away, waiting and watching.

The night air was cool on her cheeks, but it did nothing to soothe the creeping itch of frustration under her skin. She’d fought for every resource the SA got, and she was _so close_ to meeting her first-year targets, despite all the setbacks. A few more months of establishing a good track record — long enough for the first reports to go out, pristine and positive — and Sunil’s crew mutinying would have been an inconvenience. Aggravating, but manageable. But _now_ …this was the worst possible timing.

Budget conflicts had the whole the NR government bristling and short-fused, and the Palace Incident had rekindled long-standing strain between the galactic and municipal authorities. Karrde might have ideas for minimizing the damage. He had that uncanny ability to read people and situations and pinpoint who to lean on to divert attention or get help smoothing crimped scales. But it would still be a toss-up as to whether that would be enough to buy her the time she needed for this to blow over and clearer heads to prevail.

Movement to her right broke her train of thought and Mara slowed her steps, swiveling her head as her attention reverted to the buildings around her. She’d veered west, she realized, registering the thin band of traffic and bright lights at her back and the dark, silent cloudcutters looming on either side of her. A cluster of cleaning droids swarmed up their crumbling facades, their hard, oddly shaped-shells flashing as the stark cone of a security beam swept across them.

Directly ahead, out of the gloom, the hulking shadows of soaring spires — three where there should have been four — stabbed upward, casting the entire area in darker shadows. The Palace.

She hadn’t meant to come here. It was off-limits. Everyone and everything had been evacuated to other sectors of the city-planet and rumor had it patrols were tight. There was a greasy quality to the air and a lingering chill that had nothing to do with the planetary WeatherNet.

In a hazy, distorted way it felt… familiar.

The realization was unsettling. The Palace hadn’t even been home, not really. And she’d felt no pull towards it in the year she’d been back. She’d been in it, of course — first on polite NR house arrest before Wayland, and then on the roof with Skywalker, staring at the people and lights in the distance, her fingertips brushing his as he gave her his old lightsaber. But it hadn’t meant anything. She’d known, with a kind of deep certainty, that her future lay very much _out there_.

That it should feel familiar _now_ … Mara felt suddenly naked without her holdout. The oily chill riding the nighttime breeze cut through her jacket. It reverberated in a way that made her jaw reflexively clench, like the grind of a splintered bone or an agonizing shriek heard down the length of a cell block corridor. This wasn’t the darkness she’d known. Whatever had been unleashed here, it was old… and angry. 

She thought of Skywalker facing off against it. Alone. His face swam across her mind, pale and pinched with pain but determined as he faced off with C’baoth. The image twisted, warping into the furious death mask of his clone as she speared it —

Mara cut the line of thought, refusing to relieve that moment one more time. He’d given her his lightsaber, she reminded herself, squaring her shoulders. Proof that he’d understood. That things were even and clear between them. Without being entirely sure why, she started walking again, moving deeper into the darkness, her footsteps echoing on the broken duracrete path.

She’d thought maybe — well, it didn’t matter what she’d thought. Not once she’d agreed to shoulder the SA. Signing her name to the contract had felt like plunging head-first into icy water. It had been months before she seemed to break the surface and take a breath.

  
Skywalker had shown up briefly on her radar when Karrde mentioned in passing that he and the NR were exploring some Outer Rim planet as a location for a future Jedi Academy. Obviously, that kind of venture would require the establishment of a supply line — something the SA would be ideally situated to assist with. It would have been good press, she’d agreed, but then there was some kind of delay and more issues with the Alliance and she was underwater again. The next she’d heard he was off-planet and had taken an apprentice, besides. He wouldn’t have had time for her even if she’d had time for him, and so he’d slipped from her attention once again. Until three weeks ago.

An automated security light swept across a small plaza just ahead of her that cut perpendicularly through the path which she stood. Mara automatically fell back a step, sinking into the heavier shadows beside a chipped and scarred wall. She wasn’t alone.

The edge of the beam caught the outline of a shadowy, cloaked figure frozen where the path and plaza met, its hooded head fixed in her direction. Carefully, she shifted her weight, preparing to drop into a crouch and defend herself, her brain already whipping off a list of ways she could use the dark and the broken state of her surroundings to her advantage — and then an invisible tendril of sunlight slid over her skin, glancing but unmistakable.

Exasperation cut through her tight focus and she straightened, one hand finding its way to her hip, elbow jutting out, as the figure approached at a steady pace.

“Are you _trying_ to get shot?”

She’d meant it to be sarcastic, but some incredulity must have seeped in, too, because Skywalker ducked his head sheepishly as he drew beside her, pulling his hood back until it settled on his shoulders. 

“No one’s supposed to be here.”

“No one,” she pursed her lips at him. “Except you?”

He shrugged, his expression clouding. “This is the last place I’d have expected to find you.”

She had no good answer. “I wasn’t on planet when it happened,” she volunteered after a moment. _I wanted to see what it was like_ , she almost said.

“I know.”

She leaned back a little.

“Han mentioned he ran into you at the Trade Summit.”

Right. Organa-Solo had been a keynote speaker. Mara hadn’t seen her, but that was no surprise. It had been a huge event and high-level players like Organa-Solo moved in different circles than the kinds of beings Mara had been tasked with finding and cornering for business. Solo, though — she’d run into him at the bar, rolled her eyes when he joked about liking to “slum it” occasionally at fancy events. He’d given her some line about the company being better.

Mara smiled wryly at the memory in spite of herself. “They were keeping tabs on me?”

Surprise and then what might have been regret slid across his face. “Not everyone is as bad at keeping up with their friends as I am these days.”

Friends? The word threw her. Sure, Solo and Organa-Solo had been kind on the glancing occasions they’d run into each since the Thrawn Campaign, but they weren’t social. And she hadn’t spoken to Skywalker in — what? The better part of a year? Besides… she’d never really thought of herself as having friends. It was too...recreational.

“Looks like I missed a hell of a party.” He didn’t smile like she’d expected him to and she looked away, irritation stabbing at her. That had been a stupid thing to say. The little she got from the news was that his apprentice was kept in medical lockdown, words like “mentally disturbed” circulated widely. Karrde hadn’t mentioned it to her, but she would bet anything that his expertise with ysalamiri played some sort of role.

“I’m — I'm sorry about your apprentice,” she added more quietly, the words tripping stilted off her tongue.

He tipped his head forward, an acknowledgment. “The Alliance is going well? And Karrde’s enterprises?”

Mara forced out a chuckle, then tried to redirect before he could dig further. “Surprisingly profitable. You're at 500 Republica now?”

He shook his head. “[Loijin Plaza](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Loijin_Plaza).”

“Ah.” What was he doing there? That wasn’t where the NR was relocating dignitaries.

“You?”

“In the Old Market area.” It wasn’t a flashy address but she wasn’t embarrassed about it, either. It was respectable and functional, and that was what she needed these days.

“You like it?”

“It's fine.” She frowned at herself. Since when was she this bad with social graces? “A little far from the Senate district, but I don't mind.” She shifted her feet, tried to do better. “I think there’s a couple of decent tapcafes around Loijin. Actually not even that, more like hole-in-the-wall spots, good for take out, that sort of thing. None of it will run you dry like spots in the Palace District.” Of course not anymore, everything was dead now.

To her relief, Skywalker brightened. “Really? I don’t really know Loijin Plaza that well yet. I’d like to. My hours are a bit… unpredictable these days, with the lawyers and — well, you’ve heard. I haven’t had much time to explore.” He looked at her inquiringly and Mara wracked her brain for details.

“There’s Pujak over by the edge of Yusu Gardens and, uh, Misel - or Mistrell? It’s all a mix of dishes — closer to street food than anything else, but as reputable as it gets, I guess.”

“It sounds good,” he hesitated. “If you ever feel like company, you have my comm, right?”

She squinted, not sure what to make of that. “I thought you were busy.”

He straightened up slightly. “I — ah — yeah, there’s meetings at random times, but it’d be nice to catch up. See what you’ve been up to.”

Mara swallowed. The image of the Christori reporter flashed up in her mind. Skywalker had enough issues on his plate — he didn’t need her and her baggage cluttering his life, too. Some unnamable knot of feelings had her offering a bland, “that’d be nice.”

It was a mistake — Skywalker immediately deflated a little. “We probably shouldn’t stay here. The patrols will be around again soon.” His tone softened, the gentle warmth in it triggering spotty flashes of memory from her short, broken bouts of lucidity on Wayland and a muddled ache in her chest. “It was good to see you, Mara.”

“You too.” She bit her lip as he began to move away. “Hey, wait.”

Skywalker stopped and turned back to her.

“It’s safe here?” she blurted out. “I mean it feels awful, but…” 

Skywalker tilted his head a little. “It’s safe. No matter what they say, nothing from...inside got out.” His voice grew hushed. “Only Kyp and he can’t hurt anyone now.”

“Good,” she murmured, an odd dissatisfied feeling welling up. “That’s... good.”

He gave her a small smile that she felt more than saw, then continued on, disappearing around a cracked and crumbling corner. Mara gave a last look at the looming spires of the Palace. A shudder rolled through her. Then she, too, started back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Since I adore the worldbuilding of SW, I have included links throughout this fic to Wook and other related material to show my work and share my delight. Do not feel obligated to click on them. 
> 
> 2\. It was fascinating to play with the local/planetary vs. galactic authorities in this fic. Looking at who is responsible for/has authority over what, the differences in how the Imperial-to-NR handoff affected different levels of government differently, etc. It’s not something we see a lot of in fic, and I hope to have done it justice here. 
> 
> 3\. Yes, Yonyur’s ship is named after the ship in Alien.
> 
> 4\. If you aren't familiar, “hurry up and wait” is a common military saying. 
> 
> 5\. One of my favorite things about this fic is the way it pokes at fascinating things about Coruscant that show up in stuff like TCW but get little more than a nod in the movies. I also adored working with Master Trader Mara in a capacity we never really got to see in the EU books. It was a little weird initially to write her without her holdout and wearing business clothes instead of flight suits, but I grew to really appreciate the different ways this setting let me dig into her character that I haven't found in other settings.


	3. Ch 2

Luke rubbed at the ache pulsing above and behind his right eye with one hand and tried to keep his tone supremely polite. His attorneys recorded everything. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

“With respect, Master Skywalker, accompanying you while you give preliminary testimony to the Inquest is quite literally what your sister is paying me rather well to do.” Baruba’s tone was equally professional, but Luke could hear the reproof in it, too.

 _No,_ Luke thought, irritably. _She’s paying you to make sure I walk the party line._

Luke took a half step back and leaned a hip against the beveled edge of his kitchen’s glossy [Zeka quartz](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Zeka_quartz) counter. His eyes flickered over the still-unassembled pieces of the table he’d ordered where they were propped against the wall. The building managers had pulled the [Ayalayi Thornwood](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ayalayli_Thornwood) table from deep storage somewhere and sent up two luxurious form-chairs with it, besides. Flexing his toes against the heated tiles under his feet, Luke resisted the urge to go back to the small crate of household goods he’d been unpacking and made himself focus on the conversation. Just because he was on audio-comm only was no excuse to be rude.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, trying to exhale the aggravation crawling under his skin. “You don’t think it will be bad for appearances for me to show up with Counsel in tow? To refuse to answer questions or to get approval from you before I do? Trying to reform people’s understanding of the Jedi was hard enough _before_ the Incident. The last thing I need is to come off as if I’m part of some coverup now.”

The Incident. _Disaster._ But he wasn’t allowed to use that word. Everyone had been very clear about that. Restlessness gnawed at him and he pushed off the counter, striding toward the lounge of his new apartment.

“There is no coverup,” the Bith said, patiently. “I understand your frustration, Master Skywalker, but the New Republic is withholding information about recent events exclusively for the protection and safety of the public.”

Heading for the ebonite desk that dominated a circular nook in the back left corner of the broad room, Luke suppressed a sigh. “So I’ve heard.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t follow the logic. There was nothing people could do about the Force-based threats in the galaxy that they were incapable of preventing. Opening the entire can of worms to the public eye could cause panic and destabilization just when the fledgling NR could least afford it.

But if he didn’t tell the truth, where did that leave him? Where did it leave Kyp? What about the Academy everyone so desperately wanted him to found? Had anyone considered those things when they set up this plan? Or had they just assumed he’d find a way to pull everything off regardless, like they always did?

 _This is what you get for being in bacta while decisions were being made,_ he thought sourly.

“Have you given any thought to my question about training documents?” Baruba asked, letting Luke’s last comment slide. 

“There aren’t any.” Swallowing back his bitterness, Luke picked up one of the datapads sitting on the desk and pulled up his running provisions list. He punched a reminder to himself to buy a new journal, then set the pad down.

Baruba sighed, the air whistling faintly over the comm speakers as it exsufflated through his skin. “You haven’t been able to come up with anything at all?” He sounded pained. “As I believe I explained before, Master Skywalker, it is strongly in our best interest to provide some kind of evidence of the nature of the training Mr. Durron received. Even partial records will help us refute any implication of negligence or intentional obfuscation.” 

“I was listening when you explained it the first three times.” Frustration bit at him. “And if I had something I’d have given it to you -- I don’t have anything to hide.” The words came out sharp and hard as [Glarsaur](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Glarsaur) claws, raking through the air with a defensiveness that made Luke wince. He inhaled, his head beginning to seriously throb. Closing his eyes, he dug his fingers into them and sought calm. _He’s trying to help_ , he reminded himself for the hundredth time. 

“As I’ve said,” he started over, the words slow and deliberate this time. “Kyp came into my care unexpectedly. I didn’t have any systems in place, yet. I’d been hoping to find some kind of template in my research that I could copy or adapt before I took an apprentice.”

He’d tried to explain that to the[ NR Relief Corps](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/New_Republic_Relief_Corps) agent who had all but dumped Kyp in his lap after the boy had been seen performing inexplicable “magic” during his liberation from Kessel. Then he’d tried to explain it to no less than a dozen other officials, too, lobbying for some other arrangement. For Kyp to go to someone, _anyone_ , more prepared to help him than Luke was. Every plea had fallen on deaf ears.

It was only since the disaster that he’d started to wonder how Kyp had perceived those arguments. He’d assumed that the boy understood that it wasn’t about him -- just a matter of Luke himself not being ready. Now he wondered if either of them had understood anything about each other at all. 

“But you did not.”

Baruba’s voice pulled Luke back out of his thoughts. “No. I never found anything. I couldn’t exactly go off my own training, either.” No one should ever be trained as he had been. 

“So you improvised,” the lawyer prompted, having heard the story before. “And took notes in a flimsi-bound journal. Which is now missing.”

Luke walked to the low-slung, flow-cushioned window seat that adorned the open lounge’s leftmost wall. The deep padding conformed to his body when he sat and instantly began warming to ease the tightness in his muscles. _Good luck with that_ , he thought, leaning his head back into the sloping skull cradle and pressing his right shoulder against the cool transparisteel pane beside him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly relaxed — it had been before he’d left for Yavin, that much was sure. Maybe before he’d accepted responsibility for Kyp.

“It was in my bedroom when we left. I meant to pack it for the survey trip and forgot. I’m sure it was destroyed in the Incident.” 

Luke was so tired of repeating things ‘to show consistency in the record.’ He let his eyes wander over the glittering lights of the unsleeping city. The buildings were closer together here but privacy measures meant every window and viewport reflected light like a prism instead of permitting glimpses inside his neighbors’ private worlds.

“And you never made any type of backup,” Baruba prompted

“I didn’t have any reason to.” Why would he? He _was_ the Order. There was no one else to report to about Kyp’s training and no standardized record-keeping system for him to use. The Jedi had left nothing behind and the NR had its hands too full just trying to stay in one piece to worry about its lone Jedi except when they needed him to do something. “So unless the CSF finds the original, the information’s gone.”

_Just like everything else about the Jedi except me._

“Thank you, Master Skywalker,” Baruba said, formally. “I will continue to liaise with the Coruscant Security Force team associated with the Palace. Perhaps they can look over things again. Have a good evening.” 

The line cut. For a few moments, Luke lingered where he was, staring absently out the window. Eventually, he remembered the table waiting for him in the other room and he hauled himself up, determined not to keep brooding. 

Leia might not approve of his choice of living arrangements but she’d had Threepio order him a standard grocery pack, so there was plenty of food in his conserv and cabinets. It would be nice to have a table to eat it at. Retrieving the rudimentary toolkit from where he’d left it beside the front door, he carried it into the kitchen.

Settling himself comfortably on the floor, he got to work laying out the table legs and hardware. The thornwood was smooth as glass under his fingers and a warm spice color that reminded him of the courtyard walls of his Aunt and Uncle’s homestead.

He snorted softly to himself, remembering the Duorsian marble-topped monstrosity the building representative at 500 Republica had tried to convince him was a dining table. That entire apartment had been a joke — four bedrooms, each with its own ‘fresher bigger than the living room of his childhood home. 

Everything had been silk, velvet, and stone — and holocams and locks and surveillance. His mouth curved down as he remembered the screens and screens of safety protocols they’d handed him to read and sign off on.

When he’d argued he didn’t need 18 guard droids and sentients watching him meditate or cook his breakfast every day they’d insisted none of it was optional.

“ _Making exceptions_ ,” the [Calibop](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Calibop) building manager had huffed, feathers ruffling in affront, “ _would create an unacceptable risk to every being under our protection. You must comply with each and every one of our rules for your own safety and that of your esteemed neighbors.”_

 _“No,_ he’d answered, sliding the contract back across the manager’s hoverdesk. “ _I don’t.”_

He knew they’d been surprised. He hadn’t put up a fuss over the apartment they’d set him up in at the Palace after the retaking of Coruscant. It hadn’t been worth it; he was hardly ever there. When that had been destroyed, he’d expected to be relocated to something like it — not the massive, opulent property they’d shown him at 500 Republica.

He’d found this place, Loijin Plaza, on his own, much to everyone else’s chagrin. He’d only been here for about a week, but it already felt more like home than his Palace apartment ever had. 

It was respectable and well-equipped but off the beaten path. Unpretentiously comfortable. Maybe that was why Mara was familiar. It seemed like the kind of place someone like Karrde would know about — just mundane and high-class enough not to draw attention. Perfect for hiding in plain sight.

Luke held the first table leg in place as he started securing it onto the top. Thinking of Mara made his thoughts wander to the other night. He hadn’t expected to see her. Hadn’t expected anyone to be in the Palace District with as tightly as it was patrolled.

She'd looked well. Curvier than he remembered, but it could have been the blazer and business slacks she'd been wearing. They were a far cry from the flight suits he was used to seeing her in. Her hair hadn't been in its usual braid, either, but in a tight updo. If it weren't for the Force he wouldn't have readily recognized her.

He’d been aware, vaguely, from passing comments Han and Leia had made that she had an apartment somewhere in the vicinity of the Finance District. That she was making hard-won strides in her efforts to get the Smugglers’ Alliance established. He’d wanted to catch up with her — thought more than once that it would have been nice to grab caff and find her office. But his chaotic and over-stuffed schedule had just never allowed for it. So Mara had become one more friend drifting to the edges of his life as the drive to build something solid out of the ashes of war consumed them all.

Or so he’d thought.

He frowned to himself as he started on the second leg. She’d felt… _off_ , last night. Evasive. She’d been polite about the Incident, but… did she blame him? Doubt niggled at him. Did she think it was his fault that his apprentice had crashed and burned so quickly? Had she predicted he’d do so badly after his faltering attempts to train her on Wayland and drifted away intentionally to avoid the inevitable mess?

He reached for the third table leg. _No._ Mara wasn’t one to mince words or feign sympathy. If she’d thought he was in the wrong, she’d have said so. And she hadn’t had to bring up take-out places. But she had, so that was something. Not that she’d been enthusiastic when he’d invited her to have dinner with him. _You were vague,_ he scolded himself. _She probably thought_ you _weren’t enthusiastic._

Moving around to get a better angle, he huffed at himself as he finished his project. _Who am I kidding? She probably thought I was just desperate._

They’d been almost-friends... a year ago. And then he’d coaxed her into a job that no doubt required an enormous number of meetings and negotiations at all hours and never so much as commed her again. She was busy and successful and he was… well. Currently, he was a public relations nightmare.

Repacking his tools, he flipped the table upright. _Perfect._ He ran a hand over the surface, daring to picture Mara sitting there, her bright, keen eyes examining him over her glass. He let himself enjoy the image for a fleeting moment, then let it go, knowing he’d never see it made real.

It was a little ridiculous of him to imagine that Mara might share a meal with him here, but it wasn’t really surprising. With his world abruptly narrowed to little more than his sister’s family, his lawyers, and incessant rehashing of the same frustrations, it was only natural to jump at the idea, farfetched as it was. Grabbing his toolset, he flicked the lights off as he left the kitchen. He didn’t regret asking Mara to dinner but he wouldn’t hold out foolish hopes, either. So he was lonely. He’d survive. Things would get better. They had to.

* * *

“I’m afraid I have nothing to offer you.”

Mara stared at the comm unit, a deep sinking sensation starting in her chest. She knew that tone. Had heard it enough that even on audio-comm-only she could clearly envision Karrde behind his desk in that thick, heavy antique chair he loved. His fingers would be steepled, his blue eyes dark and sharp, his expression calculated and set.

“It’s a mess here,” she said anyway, letting frustration into her voice but carefully keeping the rising dread out. “I’m redoing schedules almost hourly to compensate for all the shippers pulling out and all the carriers bailing on me. Talasea is costing us.”

“I’m aware,” Karrde answered, infuriatingly calm. “My comm hasn’t been any quieter than yours.”

The reproof stung. _I’m not complaining,_ she thought angrily, the words rising hot in her throat. She propped her elbows on her desk, leaning forward. _You don’t understand._

She bit her tongue and swallowed, the unspoken torrent lodging like a stone against her sternum, so visceral it physically hurt.

“A significant percentage of our allies feel that the New Republic has betrayed their trust.” Karrde’s voice was even and Mara imagined his head tilting just a few degrees in that understated way he had. “Rightfully so, given the untoward accusations circulating among planetary security forces in Morobe and the contiguous sectors and the aggressive responses they’re garnering.”

“That’s Foryk’s doing — stoking paranoia everywhere,” Mara fumed. “But it’s just grandstanding. Our people should be able to recognize that.”

“Perhaps.” There was a beat of silence on the comm. “But they also recognize that the Alliance is young,” Karrde said carefully. “And that it may not yet have the stability or inertia necessary to survive this kind of setback.”

“No.” The response was immediate, shoved up and out of her mouth by the anger flash-boiling in her chest. “It’s just one setback. We’ll get through this. I just need everyone to hold —”

“I understand your frustration.” Karrde’s tone turned sympathetic. “But testing out robustness is part of the business.” She could hear the frown. “Even in the worst of cases, it goes without saying you can return to your position in my organization. Our allies won’t hold it against you — outside of the Core, all of the blame is landing squarely at the feet of the NR.”

“Robustness,” she repeated, her voice ringing echo-y in her own ears with disbelief. What was Karrde saying? “It’s just one setback, Karrde. We’ve had our share of challenges. This is just another.” _Not like this_ , an insidious voice whispered. Mara clamped down on it. “All I need is for our carriers to play nice. This’ll blow over.”

“It might,” Karrde allowed, unperturbed. “Or it might not.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly desert-dry. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I just don’t want you to lie to yourself about the realities of your situation, Mara.” There was strain in his voice when he went on, “I don’t think it’s wise to do any more than what we’re doing currently. This is primarily the New Republic’s problem, not ours.”

Mara shut her eyes. Of course it was her problem. How could he not see that?

“Mara?”

It was her name on the line. The _legitimate_ name she’d struggled for a year and a half to make.

“I understand.” Her tone was hollow.She couldn’t force Karrde to do more so that was that. She would have to manage alone. It would hardly be the first time. “I’ll be in touch.”

Her hand didn’t shake when she deactivated the comm but it was a close thing. She sat very still, back rigid, unwilling to bend, even here in her tiny private space. Karrde’s people didn’t think she could salvage this. Maybe neither did Karrde. Defiance pushed her to her feet and out the door into the rest of the office.

“What did he say?” Klinu turned dark, innocently expectant eyes to her.

“We’re on our own.”

Mara had snuffed the life from enough eyes that it shouldn’t have felt like a knife in her chest to see the hope drain from the Cerean’s sweet face. Shouldn’t have hurt to watch her expression fall and her skin tone discolor as understanding sank in. 

“Try Senator Tevv again.” The words were clipped, but it was the only way Mara could get them out through the tight clench of her jaw. “We’re not done here.”

* * *

Luke wove through the ornate arcade of the Coruscant Municipal Justice Center, moving determinedly toward the kiosks that ringed the central rotunda. His cloak swept around his boots and fluttered against the mosaicked floor as he veered toward one set back at the edge of the shadows that fell across the gallery’s north wall. All the kiosks were designed to offer privacy, but he’d gladly take the additional layer of discretion the shadows would offer.

“Good afternoon, Gentlebeing,” the [SE2 unit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/SE2_service_droid) manning the station greeted, its mechanical voice modulated to cool, low notes. “How may I be of service?”

“I’m involved in an Inquest and I need a copy of some of the documents, please.”

“Of course.” A flat holoscreen appeared between them in a bracket created by two Privacy-7 audio-visual privacy curtain rods. “Please enter the case number.”

The wonderful thing about professional service droids, Luke reflected as he punched in the long string of digits, was that they got mind-wiped every day. So unlike Threepio, Artoo, and half the astromechs in Rogue and Wraith Squadrons that he’d met, they didn’t particularly care who you were or what you were doing as long as you followed procedure. And, unlike sentients, they were blessedly devoid of the need to gawk, whisper, or ask prying questions.

“Very good,” the droid intoned four lengthy screens later. “All authorizations are approved. Please hold while your records are retrieved.”

“Sure.” Luke waited patiently, accepted his records, thanked the droid, pulled up the hood of his cloak, and strode toward the far door. 

* * *

“Maybe you should have worn the blue one,” Klinu fretted, brushing at Mara’s sleeves. “They say blue makes people look trustworthy.”

“Stop that.” Mara swatted her aide’s hands away and then went back to hastily re-plaiting her braid. “I’m not here to win a beauty contest and this is just for a puff piece.“ She’d much rather be doing _real_ work, especially now, but the interview had been scheduled a week ago by the Trade Commission. She was on shaky ground with them as it was.

Twisting the band around the bottom of her hair, Mara looked up as the door to the conference room opened.

A pink-skinned, blonde-haired woman in a painfully loud, low-cut neon purple ensemble swept in, something rapacious in the way she looked around the room before her eyes landed on Mara. “You must be Mara Jade.” Gliding forward, she extended a hand. “I’m Kayala Fei, with _Coruscant Finance_. I will be doing this interview.”

 _“You know as well as I do that Coruscant Finance is a reputable publication,”_ Official Pern Belfortu had said. _“We need to remind people that the SA’s work is important to the NR’s trading landscape. Reassure investors we know what we are doing.”_

“I am.” Mara shook her hand. She had more than a few contracts to go over. The sooner she got this over with the better. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Fei offered a saccharine smile. She put her datapad on the table and looked over at Mara. “Do you mind if I record our chat?”

“Not at all.”

Mara could have been blindfolded and sitting in a room of ysalamiri and still smelled the shavit this new character was obviously full of but she folded her hands. “So I’d like to start by giving you a general overview of the Smuggler’s Alliance. Who we are and our stated aims, as well as where we fit as far as the New Republic’s —”

“Actually,” Fei interrupted, “I thought we could start with something more current.”

Mara’s eyes narrowed even as her stomach tightened. “Current?”

“Yes, I understand that the Smuggler’s Alliance had some involvement in the Talasea crisis early this week.” Fei’s eyes glinted. “I was wondering if you could comment on that.”

* * *

Luke tucked himself into a private booth in the Nutty Narglatch tapcafe at the back of a commercial building a few blocks from the Justice Center. The eatery wasn’t cheap. He could have bought three hot chocolates elsewhere for the price of the single fat ceramic mug steaming in front of him. But the privacy of the booth and the bright sunlight spilling in the window that spanned one whole side made it worth every credit.

Doing admin work for the Order was always a nightmare, but Luke had learned through trial and error that doing it somewhere comfortable made the entire ordeal marginally more bearable.

Sticking the data chip he’d gotten from the SE2 into his datapad, he pulled up the inquest’s latest Evidence Ledger. Around occasional swigs of his drink, he systematically worked through the list of items removed from the wreckage of his former apartment. There wasn’t much.

An Ewok flute the Bright Tree Village tribe had given him after Endor. A vial of sand from the Homestead, miraculously unbroken. A projection cube with holos of Han, Leia, and the twins. If he’d been anyone else, CSF would have given such trifles back once they were recorded. With the Inquest on, who knew when he’d see them again? But personal items weren’t what he was supposed to be worrying about.

Scanning further down the document he found mention of the few precious Jedi artifacts he’d found between the Thawn Campaign and finding himself saddled with Kyp. Pulling up the forms Baruba’s people had sent him, Luke set about the tedious task of formally requesting that the items be returned to the Order.

More than once he had to stop and use a Jedi memory technique to call up ridiculously minute details about the pieces to satisfy the form requirements. When he got them back he was going to have each one professionally surveyed and have the records stored in backed-up databanks the way all of the remaining House Organa artifacts and valuables were. Leia had recommended it years ago, but at the time they’d still been at war and it hadn’t been possible. Then war had transitioned into rebuilding and he’d only had a handful of things and it hadn’t seemed important.

Now he was learning all the lessons about running an Order that Yoda hadn’t seen fit to teach him — the hard way.

Luke’s comm chimed and he glanced down. It was an auto-reminder that he was due in the lawyers’ office soon. Glancing at his work once more, he gathered everything carefully and returned it all to his bag. Shouldering the strap, he left a generous tip and slipped out.

* * *

Mara crossed her arms over her chest, tucked her hands under them, and leaned into the wind as she exited the maglev station to the night beyond. It bit into her cheeks but she welcomed the sting. Anyone who bothered to notice her would think the redness of her skin was from the cold — not from the seething anger and humiliation eating their way out of the pit of her stomach and threatening to consume her whole.

_Filthy Huttsucker._

She’d botched the interview. Worse than that. It had been a debacle. A setup. Fei didn’t care about the Smuggler’s Alliance. All she wanted to talk about what the Talasea crisis and she’d goaded until Mara bit. She shouldn’t have said anything. Facts and logic meant nothing to people like that. How could Fei have even known enough to prod at her?

Her headache had crawled down her neck and branched into her shoulders, bunching them until they ached. A growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, either. That had been what? Fourteen hours ago? Fifteen? Skirting out of the flow of foot traffic, she paused under the awning of a closed shop and looked around, orienting herself. She hadn’t been paying attention to direction or her surroundings when she’d stalked out of the conference room, intent only on putting distance between herself and the scene of her most recent mess. She still had several contracts to look over, but she didn’t trust her focus right now.

Across the skyway, bright lights over a gaudy establishment advertised Meerak’s Millinery. That put her well Southeast of the Senate complex… and two blocks from Loijin Plaza. Skywalker’s new place. She’d been licking her wounds the last time she’d seen him, too, walking out with no destination in mind as if it helped.

He had asked for her to comm if she wanted to grab dinner. She almost rejected the thought out of hand — he had his own problems. Force knew the last thing he probably needed was unexpected company. She should just go home.

Her feet remained planted, refusing to obey. 

What had Skywalker’s day been like? He’d mentioned long meetings with his legal team, probably on top of whatever it was he did as a Jedi. Mara had no idea. At one point, right after the Wayland mess, it seemed like Skywalker had been everywhere in the media, an emblem in all sorts of government ventures. She’d been too busy learning the ropes of her new job to think much about it. Maybe that was just what Jedi did. She didn’t know when he’d stopped being such a fixture. Probably when he left the planet with his new apprentice in tow.

She glanced at her chrono. It was late but not unreasonably so. The man couldn’t lie to save a life — she’d know in an instant if he didn’t really want her there, and she could always play it off as a social nicety. A housewarming gift, for his new place. Food worked for that, right?Otherwise, it’d be a nice distraction. An escape, however short, from that dourness hanging over her. It’d been his invitation, after all.

Mara realized she was already walking. On her second try, she located the badly marked entrance to Shadiru, a hole-in-the-wall eatery that advertised itself somewhat ambitiously as “galactic fusion” cuisine. In short order, she had hot and fragrant tomo-spice Karkan ribenes, spicy Ossiathoran noodles, and Notha broth consomme in an insulated sack and was scanning the building markers for the one she needed.

Doubt set in as she approached the main Loijin Plaza building. He’d told her to comm. That was polite being speak for _I’d like warning you’re coming_ or _I want a chance to make an excuse_ , wasn’t it? Shavit. He might not even be there. He’d said he was keeping strange hours, and Force knew Organa Solo and her husband would be regularly kidnapping him for meals, making sure he ate and took care of himself. His niece and nephew were getting bigger now, too. He was probably barely ever in his apartment at all. Whatever. It was fine. She had her backup plan. She could give him the food, make her excuses, and leave.

Except, she realized, halting near a geometric planter box in the center of the Plaza, she didn’t know what apartment he was in. Didn’t even know what floor he was on. She could see security droids manning the lobby — they’d never let her in with just his name. Trying to sneak past them was asking for trouble and she’d had enough of that for one day.

Just the thought of stealthy movement made the streetlights that dotted the Plaza suddenly feel starkly bright overhead and, in her lingering hesitation, she felt idiotic and unexpectedly alone.

 _You’re tired,_ she told herself, sternly. _It was a long day and you’re letting your head run away with you. This was a stupid idea but no one has to know. Just go home. Eat, take some pain killers, sleep, and get back to everything tomorrow. It’ll be fine._

She turned, pushed herself a step away. Her right hand curled over her left shoulder, kneading the knotted muscle as she took another step, then one more. There was a tram station just at the other end of the block. She could take it, switch lines two stops down. Or was it three? She didn’t frequent this part of town anymore.

“Mara?”

She started at the sound of her name, her head coming up. Skywalker stood a few paces ahead of her, a picture-perfect Jedi swathed in a drab brown cloak, a bag slung over his right shoulder. His face registered surprise, then fell into a genuine smile as he closed the distance between them. “What are you doing here?”

He was within arms’ reach and this close her gaze caught on the fine lines he’d acquired around his eyes. They hadn’t been there on Wayland. His eyes were the same, though. Bright and warm and curious.

“Mara?”

 _Shavit._ She’d been staring. “I brought you food.” She thrust the bag toward him, gracelessly. “But, uh, I didn’t know what your apartment number was. Anyway, you should eat while it’s hot. Unless Organa Solo already fed you. It’s not gourmet or anything. Just —” She shut her mouth, resisting the urge to grind her teeth.

“Thank you.” His expression softened with something she couldn’t place and his voice seemed truly sincere. “I’m glad I caught you. I’m starving.” He took the bag with much more composure than she’d offered it. “Have you eaten?”

He actually wanted to share a meal? “Breakfast,” she answered without thinking. Then, as her brain caught up, “but if you had plans —”

“Dinner,” he interrupted, with another one of those smiles that made his eyes crinkle and her gaze catch. “And it’ll be much better when it’s not just me. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is probably the only fic I will ever write in which Talon is Mara's boss but not her Space Dad. 
> 
> 2\. As always, this fic is (and will continue to be) positively bursting with my Space Food kink.
> 
> 3\. If you're guessing the smut starts next chapter, you're right. :wink:


	4. Ch 3

Luke made short work of getting his guest through building security and bustled her into a turbo-lift. Mara was quiet on the ride up and Luke studied her out of the corner of his eye. Her reddened cheeks and the traces of shadows under her eyes contrasted with her professional attire. Weariness and uncertainty rippled off her in waves. Oddly, Mara’s discomfiture made him feel better. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed company tonight.

“This is us,” he said, motioning for her to precede him out of the lift when they reached his floor.

“Why did the NR put its only Jedi here?” Mara frowned, flicking her gaze around the broad but blandly decorated hallway as they passed through it.

Luke stifled a smile. Working in the halls of power hadn’t diminished her directness any. “I’ll have you know,” he said, slanting an amused glance at her, “that this building houses a number of planetary Ambassadors. I’m in quite fine company.”

“Fine,” she repeated, peering at him suspiciously. “But not of your caliber.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that.” He chuckled and pressed his hand against the scanner at his door. It felt good to laugh. “Ambassador Ac’ak from two floors down will give you an hour-long lecture on the essential role the Outer Rim plays in the New Republic’s economy.”

“Mmhm,” she muttered, noncommittally.

The lock clicked and the door whooshed open. Luke lifted his hand and risked letting his fingertips press ever so slightly on Mara’s back as he steered her into the apartment. “Come on.”

They left their boots near the entry door and then he pointed her through the lounge and into the kitchen where he deposited his bag and the food onto the counter. Opening the insulated take-out bag, he inhaled. The rich, savory aromas made his mouth water. “This smells great.”

“It’s practically street food, Skywalker. You don’t have to be impressed.” Mara slid her jacket off and half-turned to throw it over the back of one of the chairs.

There was a grace to the movement that he couldn’t help but furtively appreciate. The rotation of sculpted shoulder muscle under her thin tunic, the curve of her hip as she twisted. She’d lost the gaunt, ashen thinness that had haunted her at Wayland. Regained some of the supple strength that had made it hard to keep his eyes — and thoughts — to himself on Myrkr, despite her hostility.

“I grew up on desert food,” he reminded her, pulling plates and bowls out of a cabinet and gambling that she wouldn’t mind if he took the liberty of serving for both of them. “My aunt made a mean womp rat stew, but even with good preparation it’s tough for gamey meat like that to compare with something like this.” He shot a teasing look at her as he carried their plates over to the table and then fetched silverware and napkins. “And I’ve seen you happily eat ration bars an Ewok wouldn’t touch, so don’t try to tell me your tastes are high class, either.”

Mara pursed her lips as she slid into her chair and flicked a napkin open over her lap. “Ration bars,” she said primly, “are perfectly acceptable sustenance.”

“Whatever you say, Jade.”

Luke dug into his dinner, the ribenes scalding his fingertips and their sauce sending delicious fire across his tongue. He watched, entertained, as Mara used the fork and knife he’d set out mostly out of habit to cut the meat off her ribenes and divide it into precise, bite-sized squares. Her back was perfectly straight and her expression composed as if she were at an elaborate formal dinner instead of sharing casual take-away at his kitchen table. She must have felt his attention, because she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, eyes skittering to his face. 

“What?” she demanded.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said impulsively, shrugging one shoulder and trying not to cringe at how much of a farm boy he sounded at the moment. “I’d hoped both of us being on Coruscant would let us keep up better.”

“They gave you an apprentice,” Mara returned to her dinner matter-of-factly. “You were busy.”

“I was,” he agreed, licking the juicy sauce off his fingers. He caught Mara watching. There was an unfamiliar intensity in her appraisal that made him think better of his manners. Grabbing one of the little wipes that had come with the ribenes, he properly cleaned his hands before moving on to his noodles. “But I’ve missed seeing people. I hadn’t expected...well.” He paused, chagrined.“I haven’t expected much of anything that’s happened since Wayland, honestly.”

She lifted one eyebrow, archly. “I wasn’t under the impression you ever made an effort to think ahead at all.”

Luke laughed again and made a face at her. “You’ve been talking to Leia. Actually,” he tipped his head with interest. “You would be, probably — at least a little, for work. How is the Smugglers Alliance going?”

“Fine.” Mara ducked her head, poking at her food. “You know how new enterprises are. Lots of work to do. None of it exciting.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” he said, sincerely.

“And the New Republic would be a mess without you,” she shot back, her head coming up, brows furrowing. “So why did they stick you so far away from 500 Republica? I’d have expected them to keep you close at hand. It isn’t about the Inquest, is it?”

“They wanted me there but I said no. Found this place on my own.” Luke swirled a forkful of noodles, then stuck them in his mouth to hide his smile at Mara’s incredulous _what were you thinking_ expression. It had been a long time since he’d seen it but that look had been burned into his memory too thoroughly at Myrkr to ever forget.

“They let you do that?”

Luke chewed and swallowed. They didn’t really have a choice.” He shook his head. “500 Republica is nice enough, but all the apartments are enormous and I’ve liberated prison facilities with fewer restrictions on movement in and out. That’s fine for Han and Leia — they have the twins to think about. Not me, though. I like it here.”

Mara tipped back a neat spoonful of broth while she considered. “How many bedrooms?”

“Just one. I don’t need more.”

“Keeps them from throwing another apprentice at you,” Mara observed. “Since that turned out so well last time.”

“Kyp is still my apprentice,” Luke said, firmly. “I won’t take another until I’ve done right by him.” Frustration rose again, bleeding into his voice. “Though at this rate it’ll be ages before they let me see him again, much less let him leave the hospital.”

“But you’ll have stayed loyal to him.”

There was something in the words that drew Luke’s attention. A twinge, like the pull of a bruised muscle. He wondered if she was thinking of the Emperor and his betrayal of her trust.

“Yes.” He looked for a way to redirect, to take her mind off the ache of old wounds — give her the respite her presence was giving him. “But enough of that. Tell me about your work. How is it going? I haven’t been able to keep up, I’m afraid.”

Mara scooped the last of her soup into her mouth, then dabbed at her lips with her napkin before replying. “They made me get a formal Trader certification,” she told him, folding the napkin and putting it beside her plate. “The whole thing was a joke.”

“Really?” Luke rifled through his memory. “I thought it took a couple of years. One of the new Rogues, Corran Horn, his wife has a Trader certification and I think I remember him complaining about all the effort she had to put in.”

“It wasn’t hard,” Mara dismissed, her fingers fluttering. “Not compared to what I used to study. The Trade Commission got me exemptions. I was able to work through it at an accelerated pace. It’s just for show, though. Covering their asses.”

“You should be proud anyway,” he admonished, scraping his chair back and starting to gather their dishes. “Leia’s had nothing but good things to say about your work.”

Uncertainty flickered across Mara’s face and Luke wondered if she was wary of the compliments or if it was that dinner was over and she didn’t know what came next. Dissatisfaction washed over him. Didn’t she get out at all? Had she been on Coruscant a whole year without making friends? If her behavior thus far was any indication, the answer was a definitive _no_ to the former and a solid _yes_ to the latter.

“I know it’s a work night,” he said before she could try to make her excuses, “but would you like a drink? There was a bottle of wine in my grocery pack and I’ve been looking for a reason to try it.” He could feel her wavering and pulled the bottle from the chiller. “Says its blossom wine from... “ he scanned the label. “Naboo.”

Mara rolled her eyes and Luke felt her sense level out into an exasperation he much preferred to the restive apprehension it replaced.

“All blossom wine is from Naboo, Skywalker. Honestly, how does your sister take you anywhere?” She rose and walked over, the movement of her hips drawing his eye before he darted them up to her face. “Let me have it.”

He happily handed it over, folding his arms and keeping out of the way as she expertly selected two tall, narrow-fluted glasses from the rack set over the countertop and set about opening and pouring the wine. She moved confidently, sure of her task, and Luke told himself it wasn’t out of line to enjoy watching her, appreciating her easy confidence.

“Here.” She slid his glass across the counter toward him. “Swirl it — gently. Like this.” She caught the stem between her fore and middle fingers and circled the glass lightly. “It releases the aroma. Then drink it slowly.”

“It’s a good thing you know about this stuff.” _There_ — the compliment hit its mark that time, a fleeting sense of pride flickering through the Force. “Grab yours.” Reaching out, he snagged her wrist and tugged, letting her pick up her own glass before leading her into the lounge.

“Did the apartment come furnished?” Mara inquired, tucking one foot beneath her as she sank into the deep cushions of his whiskey-colored Sullustan leather couch. “I know you didn’t pick it.”

She looked good there, Luke thought randomly, his lips curving up even as he feigned indignation. “Hey! I’ve got some taste!”

“Not this much.”

“Cute,” he huffed. Settling comfortably beside her, Luke tipped his head back. “If you must know, it did come mostly furnished. I’ve added a couple things here and there, but there hasn’t really been much time for setting up house.”

“The Inquest.” Her eyes dropped to her glass as she swirled the pale pink liquid inside it, then flicked back up to his face. “I’m not keeping up really, but I’ve seen some headlines.”

Disquiet roused in Luke’s chest. He didn’t want to talk about the Inquest. “It’s just politics. It’s being handled by the municipal authorities.”

“Not the Senate? I thought the Palace being, well, the Palace…” Mara circled one hand in the air vaguely.

He flashed her a lopsided smile. “The NR doesn’t want it, the way I hear it. And the municipal authorities hate ceding authority anywhere they don’t have to. Everybody’s got their own agendas, so it’s a big circus.”

“And you’re in the middle.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way but the point landed hard. “They don’t understand,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended. “Two decades of concentrated Imperial propaganda and three — almost four — decades of war.” He lifted one shoulder, dropped it again. “There’s a lot of misinformation about the Force. About Jedi. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Not really.”

“They don’t trust you.” Mara’s eyes stayed fixed on him, some intent shifting in her gaze that he couldn’t follow.

“They do,” he countered. His brow furrowed, the list of rules Baruba had given him floating to mind. All the things he wasn’t supposed to say or do. Those didn’t apply here, he decided. Not with Mara. She’d understand. “It’s not _me_. Not exactly. It’s just…” He scrounged for words. “People don’t understand it — the Force. How it works. That scares them. Thinking — thinking of what could happen, I think. If I lost control.”

He thought of the burning Palace, the chaos and smoke. The damage wrought by one apprentice who barely even understood what the Force was.

There was movement in the corner of his eye. Luke’s gaze skittered over to Mara. Her back arched as she extended an arm, her wine glass clinking onto the small end table beside her. Something about the movement made Luke think absurdly of his Aunt Dama’s tooka, its compact, muscular little body uncoiling as it rose to stalk the mice that had disturbed its nap in a dark corner of her Anchorhead inn’s courtyard.

“They haven’t been paying attention, then.” She turned back to him, but instead of leaning back into the leather, she crawled forward.

Luke’s eyes widened as Mara pushed up on her knees and swung a leg over his thighs. The hand not holding his wine flute automatically reached for her hip as she scooted forward. The fabric of her long tunic was soft, the muscle beneath warm and solid. He nearly dropped his glass when she shimmied, settling herself astride his lap. The air seemed to sharpen around them as her weight settled on his thighs, his body suddenly crackling with awareness.

Mara leaned forward, her hair brushing his cheek and the heat of her breath at his ear sending a hot shudder down his spine. “They don’t know you at all.”

“Mara —” She smelled alluringly sweet and Luke had the impulse to press his lips to her throat. To find out if she’d taste just as good.

She ducked her head, her lips fluttering against his jaw. The shock of sensation rocked him and his hand at her hip squeezed, hard. It was a bad idea. Vivid images of his hands on her hips as he burrowed his face between her thighs flooded his mind. Distant awareness of his wine glass slipping through clumsy fingers yanked him back long enough to float it safely to rest beside Mara’s. That done, his newly-freed hand grasped Mara’s other hip.

“Jade —” Her name came out husky and breathless.

She pulled back just a little. Her eyes had gone dark and jeweled and they stared into his in what his muddled brain registered as some kind of challenge he didn’t understand.

“They don’t. You never lose control at all.”

* * *

“What if you did?”

Mara watched Skywalker’s eyes, felt a flush of heat at the feverish glint in his eyes. He wanted her. Then his fingers flexed at her hips, disquiet threading through the Force. It wasn’t as strong as the heat simmering in the space between them but it was enough to send unease sluicing through her.

This was a mistake. He _knew_ her. As much as anyone did, anyway. She didn’t do this with beings she knew.

“It’s — it’s not about control.” Skywalker stumbled over the words. Confusion spread through his sense, twining with the disquiet. Skywalker’s eyes flicked toward hers, his expression going serious.

Mara didn’t let herself think, just leaned in and pressed her lips to his. His mouth was warm and sweet with traces of wine. Fresh desire spilled through her. She thought of the way he’d licked his fingers and the impulse to take them in her own mouth that had gripped her. Absurd. Still, there was something there under the wine — something masculine and seductive that pulled her in. Skywalker’s lips parted and Mara licked greedily at his tongue, her head starting to spin.

One of Skywalker’s hands twitched, his long fingers spreading up, splaying over her waist. Reality sliced through her and Mara jerked away, her heart pounding.

_Stupid._ This was wrong. Reckless. There were _reasons_ why she didn’t do this. She shouldn’t be this desperate. Even if she was, there were other ways. Safer ones. The image of a cantina over by Coco Town surfaced.

Skywalker licked his lips, short-circuiting her mental berating. “It’s about — about responsibility,” he managed after half a beat. There was a weirdly apprehensive look in his eyes now, but the words coming out almost seemed composed. As if she weren’t on his lap. Hadn’t just kissed him. “And — and being accountable. Not — not control. Not really.”

She only half heard him, the abrupt awareness that she didn’t _want_ to go to a cantina leaving her shell-shocked and reeling. Her hand slid up his arm, tracing the hard muscle beneath. She wanted… Mara’s stomach clenched with clear, sick certainty.She wanted _him_.

“It’s like I said.” His voice softened, his eyes lingering on her lips. “Beings don’t understand. I — I wish…”

“But what if it was?” The words tumbled from her lips, dragged from some deep place she didn’t govern, couldn’t make herself face. “What if it was about control?”

Skywalker narrowed his eyes at her.

Her mouth went dry, her heart racing. “Control over others.” Her fingers snuck up a little higher, brushed the collar of his tunic. “What if… what if you _were_ the type of person to take things when you wanted them?”

_Stop._ Humiliation seeped in, icy and thick. _For kriff’s sake stop. Just leave. Now. Before you make this any worse._

Her body didn’t listen. Instead, Mara found herself darting forward, her mouth pressing against his before he could answer. Skywalker’s hands curled around her arms and loss stabbed at her. He was going to push her away. He _should._ She had no business doing this with him.

Then his grip tightened and he was kissing her back, decisive and bold. Relief washed through her. Skywalker lifted a hand, his fingertips light and soft against her cheek. An unfamiliar ache blossomed behind Mara’s ribs, a mortifying urge to curl forward, press her forehead against his chest and…

Mara wrenched away, her hands dragging down Skywalker’s chest as she mouthed urgent kisses down the side of his neck. _And what?_ Blurt out her frustration at the latest setback?

_No._ What amounted to several months’ acquaintance over a couple of missions meant nothing in the scope of things. Besides, Skywalker had his own problems to worry about. He didn’t need the weight of hers, too.

Her fingers found the hem of his tunic and tugged. Words would only make a mess of things. They weren’t what she needed, anyway. Not when the feel of his bare skin under her palms drove everything else straight out of her head. That would be enough. It would.

Mara flattened her hands over Skywalker’s firm abdominals and he breathed out her name reverently. Then one hand cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her back up into another kiss. Like the last, it was confident and purposeful. Mara’s body responded, her hands tangling in his hair as her hips rocked forward, pushing her flush against him. They fit. They fit _so well_ —

Skywalker gasped, breaking the kiss. Mara gulped for breath then yanked him back, nipping at his lips. Need swamped her as they kissed again, eager and hungry this time. She lost herself in it, in the taste of his mouth, his hard thighs beneath her, the feel of his hands stroking up and down her sides. Everything built and finally she broke, shoving him back long enough to drag her tunic over her head and fling it away.

Skywalker blinked, his cheeks flushed and his mouth red and swollen. For a second, he looked like a startled hawkbat. “Mara, maybe we should talk —”

“About what?” She didn’t want to talk. At all. Fear she couldn’t put a name to drove the goad that fell off her lips.“About all they've been saying about you?”

He frowned, the expression out of place amidst the arousal pouring off him. “No, about us —”

“They think you're too permissive,” she interrupted.

Skywalker’s expression darkened.

“Not controlling enough.” Mara trailed her fingertips along his jaw, unable to resist the hard set of it, the disapproval in his eyes.

“That’s not true.”

“No.” She leaned in again, pressed her lips where her fingers had just been. “But what if it were?”

“It’s not.”

Mara drifted a hand down his neck, brushing against his pulse. It was fast, and her own pulse pounded in time with it. “Too lenient.”

“No, I — no.”

He smelled _wonderful_. Mara wanted the scent of him all over her skin. Inside her. Skywalker’s hand cradled the back of her head again and the ache in her chest expanded, deepened until drawing breath _hurt_.

_Too gentle._ He was too gentle and she couldn’t — 

“Some people want a firm hand,” she blurted.

Skywalker’s brows drew together.

Mara rolled her hips, felt Skywalker’s body tighten at the grind of her core against his hardness even through their clothes. “Need it.” Force, his eyes were _so_ blue, so bright. “But you aren't like that, are you?” She wanted him to be. But that wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right. None of this was. “That would be wrong.” Those impossibly beautiful eyes were fixed on her, like they were seeing through her and she couldn’t think, couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Ducking her head, she nuzzled his neck again. “Jedi,” she breathed, feeling him shiver, “they teach it’s wrong to do what you want. Take what you want.”

_Stop. Stop stop stop._ He wants her, he does. She’s sure of it. But not like this. He deserves better, better than —

Skywalker’s hands closed around her shoulders, stilling her. Pinning her in place. “Not when it’s offered.”

He leaned forward to kiss her again, his expression unbearably gentle. She can’t, she _can’t —_ Mara turned her head, felt his lips graze her cheek, searing a path across her skin.

“Sometimes,” her voice was rough to her own ears, low and raw. “You have to take what you want anyway. Even when it’s offered.”

For a nauseating moment, Skywalker was still. Mara wished for the ground to swallow her. He didn’t want her like this. He was too good, too —

Strong hands framed her face, making her gasp. Then Skywalker’s tongue tangled with hers,claiming her mouth with a ferocity that made her moan, his craving rolling through her in the Force thick and stark enough to make her hips jolt. One hand dropped from her face to close around her rear. Skywalker’s hips thrust up as he yanked her tighter against him, the delicious grind sending electricity skittering along every nerve. His other hand dropped to stroke a heated path up her bare torso, then ducked under the bottom band of her bra confidently, trailing heat where it cupped her naked breast and sending a streak of pleasure singing through her.

_Yes,_ she thought, her head spinning and her body inflamed with need. _Yes._

* * *

Mara let him kiss her until he thought he could drown from it. Luke’s body throbbed with the taste and feel of her, the pleasure of having her solid weight in his lap. Then, suddenly, she wasn’t. For a second, he stared in dismay, his addled brain struggling to follow as she slithered off his lap and out of reach. Finding her feet, she cut purposefully across the lounge to his bedroom.

_She wants this,_ he realized incredulously. _Me. Now._

Then he was on his feet, too. He followed her, the weirdness of her last words coming back to him and igniting fresh apprehension under his skin. _Too lenient._

It was both true and not in this situation, but that wasn’t the point, was it? She hadn’t meant it. Hadn’t been talking about the hearing at all.

He stopped in the doorway, all other thoughts blanking at the sight waiting for him. Mara’s bra lay in a pool of flimsy fabric on his nightstand and she was bent over, stepping out of her remaining clothing. Luke’s gaze traced the curve of her back, the flare of her hips. The expanse of creamy skin revealed as she folded the fabric and set it atop her bra.

Part of him was still careening — were they really doing this? They hadn’t seen each other in the better part of a year and now she was naked in his bedroom.

Another part, the part that was in control at the moment, carried him across the space between them. Mara turned as Luke wrapped his arms around her and her head tilted back, mouth poised for a kiss. He responded, sipping at her lips more slowly this time. Again, she let him, content to fall wholly into the kiss.

Gently, Luke maneuvered around until he was sitting on the bed and pulled Mara into his lap again. She moved at once, her hand ducking down between them, groping around the fastenings of his pants, her urgent touch gratifyingly clumsy. The brush of her fingertips against his hardness even through his clothes was enough to make Luke’s breath catch and he grasped her wrists, tugging them away in an unspoken request to _wait_. 

Mara pulled back, her skin flushed. “You’re overdressed.”

Her voice was sultry, sensual in ways he never imagined he’d hear. It scattered his thoughts, left him licking his lips, trying to remember how to form words himself. Mara didn’t give him a chance, her hands dipping between his legs again and making his pulse jump.

Capturing her distracting hands again, Luke managed, “I think we should talk.”

Mara’s lips formed a humorless smile. “A naked girl in your lap and you want to talk. Of course.”

That made him chuckle in spite of himself. It did seem absurd, especially when he wanted so badly to push her back on the bed and explore every gorgeous inch of her.

Mara frowned, leaning forward to stare into his eyes so close their noses almost brushed. “I thought you could take what you wanted. It’s really not that complicated, Skywalker.”

_No,_ Luke thought through the muddling haze of arousal, breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling her weight shift against his thighs, _no, it isn’t complicated at all._ This was what she wanted — what they both wanted.

They could talk later.

He kissed her again, his hands stroking up and down her back as he lost himself in her intoxicating taste. When she shifted off, Luke shed his clothing quickly, never taking his eyes off of Mara. She barely let the fabric hit the floor before she lunged towards him, her mouth latching onto his with a hunger edged with desperation, as if she feared his agreement was temporary.

Luke let his hand slide up her side, firm and reassuring. He wasn’t going anywhere— not without her.

The touch took none of the keenness off Mara’s desire. Luke let her pull him into his bed, unresisting when she rolled him over. His hand swept up her hip as he laid back, his palm curving against her skin as Mara settled over him. He let his hands roam along her midriff, up her breasts, fingers trailing over the hollow of her throat, discovering her sighs and the way her eyes fell shut. Pleasure spilled bright and heady through her sense as she stroked her hand down his bare stomach to between his legs. Then she closed her hand around his thick length and positioned him where she wanted. Another heartbeat and she was sliding down him, stealing his breath as her inner walls clutched around him, encasing him in tight, slick heat.

Mara gave an experimental rock of her hips — sharp, another at its heels. It was too fast. Luke grappled with his control, staggered by the clench of her around him as she leaned forward, her hands bracing at his shoulders.

Her features went tight as she worked her hips, striving for the right rhythm, her breasts swaying as she rocked atop him. She was breathtakingly beautiful and Luke couldn’t slow his breathing, couldn’t hold back his spiraling arousal. He wasn’t quite at risk of climax, not yet, but far too close already.

“Mara.” Her name came out a moan. “A little... _unh_. A little —”

She gave no sign of hearing him, her eyes shut tight as she focused on the jerk and grind of her hips. There was something… _off_ , he thought. A kind of distance that gave him pause, pulled him out of his own need.

“Mara,” he coaxed, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. He didn’t know what it was, that distance, but he didn’t like it. He wanted to see her and be seen with nothing between them.

“Thought you were going to take what you want,” she grunted, the roll of her hips sharpening further. “You're not. Even when it's offered —”

“Mara.” His hand on her hip tightened, apprehension making his stomach knot.“Wait.” It wasn’t right. Something — he was missing something. 

Mara lifted her head, shadowed eyes opening for just a second as she pulled one hand from his shoulder. 

The _crack_ registered before the sting of her palm burst across his face. She’d _slapped him._ Shocked, Luke jerked his hand from her cheek. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, though, and he caught the twist of misery when she met his gaze. 

“No,” she gasped, her hips still working feverishly, “you're not that person. You'll let me do _anything_ —”

_Oh._ All at once, the pieces fell into place. _A firm hand._

It wasn’t complicated at all. Closing his hands over Mara’s hips, Luke shoved her off and down.

* * *

Mara’s back hit the bed.

_“No.”_

Skywalker looked down at her, face serious, his cheek reddened from her slap. His arm braced on the bed beside her head and she couldn’t put together what had happened because he shoved in. It was a hard thrust — hard enough to make her body twist under him, pleasure streaking down to her toes.

“Not _anything_ ,” he rasped, thrusting again, setting a demanding pace. “What I want.”

It was unexpected, not all that comfortable, and yes, what she wanted. Exactly this. _Kriff._ Skywalker’s expression was strict and Mara lifted her arms.

He caught them, strong hands closing over her forearms and pressing them back against the bed as he fucked into her. “Can't keep them to yourself,” he panted, disapprovingly.

Mara writhed, her eyes slamming shut and a cry lodging in her throat as her orgasm hit with dizzying intensity.

Skywalker didn’t slow, keeping her pinned in place while he slammed into her until he found his own release with a hard shudder.

Mara dragged open bleary eyes to find him staring down at her a little incredulously. Slowly,he let go of her arms.

She kept her gaze level on him even as something inside her contracted painfully. _I don't want to talk about this._ Redirect. She had to redirect. She summoned a look she hoped spoke of challenge. “Was this what you wanted?”

Skywalker's expression changed from disbelief to something Mara couldn't read. He pulled out but made no move to shift from her otherwise. Too aware of the stickiness between her thighs, Mara started a little when he trailed a hand between her legs.

“Not entirely,” he murmured, his gaze tracking down her torso, catching the heave of her chest. “I think you can do better.”

Mara wished she could ignore the feeling that spread through her chest. The sting and the awful way the words sank in and _pulled_ at her.

“I think you can behave,” Skywalker continued, his hand tracing over the wet skin of her thigh. “I think you can be good for me. I think you can give me exactly what I want.”

It was his hand that made her whimper. His light touch against sensitive skin. Not the repulsive turn in her chest. She should go clean up.

“Though I'm not sure,” Skywalker went on in a low, even voice, hand still stroking possessively up and down her thigh. “Maybe you can't. Maybe it's beyond you.”

Mara moaned, her breaths becoming more ragged.

“Maybe you can't give me anything.” His hand stopped its pattern and he ducked his head to nuzzle at her breasts.

Mara reached for him instinctively.

Skywalker shoved her hands away with his free one.“Like that,” he scolded. “Not being good,” He leaned forward to lick across one nipple, making Mara’s whole body clench. “Not giving me what I want.”

She could be good. She _could_. Mara panted for air and locked her muscles, fighting not to squirm as Skywalker rasped his tongue over her other nipple. Every nerve in her body prickled at the contact and she felt sweat bead at her temple. 

“So maybe I'll just have to take it.”

Skywalker’s fingers shoved inside her roughly, unexpected but good — _so good_. Mara’s toes curled, a raw moan escaping through her clenched teeth, embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. Skywalker drew his fingers out, then thrust in hard without giving her a chance to ease into it. Mara pushed back with a cry, incensed.

_“No.”_ He withdrew, dropping a punitive tap on her hip. “Not what you want.”

He shifted forward, bowing his neck over her shoulder and it was a kiss until he used his teeth. The scrape of them over skin sent fire along her nerves and Mara’s hips slammed up as another cry wrenched out of her. Then he pulled away again and for a horrible moment she was alone and disoriented. Alarmed, she tried to sit up. She never made it.

The room tilted. With a grunt, Mara was facedown, forehead against the mattress. Skywalker’s strong hands were on her hips, pulling her ass up, her legs spread wide. There was heat— the swipe of his tongue along her dripping thigh, along the seam of her.

_Kriffing hell._ He shouldn’t — he should use his fingers. And not — not like this. It wasn’t —

She tried to shy away but unyielding hands yanked her back, two fingers diving in, drawing a push back and a broken moan.

_Kriff,_ she -- all of her wrenched tight. Skywalker’s fingers were gone, stroking up while his tongue teased her slit. Self-consciousness burst through her, bright and terrible, but she was already too close. Mara’s breath left her in an animal wail as she shuddered, hips twitching against the press of his fingers on her clit, the stroke of his tongue across her slit.

She panted as her climax faded, a weird unease snaking through. She’d have to face him now. Every inch of her felt heavy and sluggish as she dragged fumbling hands up to rub across her face.

The mattress shifted as Skywalker crawled up beside her. His hand settled on her shoulder.

_Casual,_ she thought as she let her hands fall from her face. _You have to say something casual._

She hated this part. She wished she could wait for Skywalker to say something first but it would probably be an overture. That wouldn’t make anything better.

“Not bad.” She’d meant for it to come out lightly, not hoarse and fuck-drunk as it was.

“No?” His face was flushed, the beginnings of a grin on his lips.

“Yeah.” Mara tried to smile and hauled herself up to sitting, reminded why she didn't do this, and never with someone she actually knew. One hand went automatically to her hair and she stifled a wince. It was a mess. “But I uh, I need to go.” Internally, she flinched at the abruptness in her own voice.

Skywalker’s expression instantly went from pleased to subdued. He sat up, pulling his knees in. “You can stay the night.” He gave a bashful tilt of his head, “I wouldn't misunderstand if you did.” Some of his confidence returned and he continued, “I'd rather if you spent the night, actually. It's a little,” he shrugged, “rushed otherwise.” He gestured outside the bedroom. “I don't mind taking the couch.”

“Skywalker —”

“Or you can take the couch.”

She shook her head, pulling herself from the bed onto unsteady feet. She rested one hand on the nightstand for balance,trying to angle her body so the weakness wasn’t obvious as she grabbed her clothing. “I have something first thing tomorrow,” she said, walking toward his ‘fresher as determinedly as she could. “So maybe next time.” She felt him perk up at the last.

“Next time?”

Mara closed the door behind her, then leaned back against it, her eyes falling shut. What was she doing? There couldn’t _be_ any next time. This was Skywalker. He had enough issues — hadn’t he literally just recounted them for her? He didn’t need hers, besides. Doing this again would be a bad idea.

Wearily, Mara cleaned up. Skywalker wasn’t in the bedroom when she came out awkwardly topless. Her shirt was somewhere near the couch.

Skywalker came towards her with it in his hands when she stepped into the lounge. “You might need this.” He met her eyes with another smile.

She nodded and slipped it on, noticing how he slid his eyes away. That was polite, but weird for having slept with someone. She decided it was probably just his strange Outer Rim chivalry.

“You're sure you don't want to stay over?” He asked when she was fully dressed and retrieving her jacket from the kitchen. “Security does a good job keeping media people out from this part of the building if that worries you.”

Mara shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.” That wasn’t even a lie. “I just need to be closer to the Senate district.” He trailed after her as she headed for the door. “Traffic is always crazy from here when the sun’s out.”

He didn’t disagree. “Mara.” His hand touched her shoulder, drawing back when she turned. The look that crossed his face vaguely reminded her of a whisperkit looking out a window. “I’m — I’m really glad I got to see you.” His voice grew quieter. “With all the hearing… stuff, I wouldn’t have expected you to get anywhere near me.”

Without the mess he probably wouldn’t have given her a second thought. Their paths wouldn’t have crossed at all. That was a good thought. It was why she should leave.

“It’s just trash, Skywalker. Soon enough they’ll figure out they’re wasting their time.” She flashed him a smile. She’d meant for it to be light, easy, but it didn’t feel that way at all. “This was fun.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still happy to see you and, um, if you’re in the area you can always drop by. Not just…” He shook his head slightly. “Feels like the only people I’ve talked to for weeks have been Han and Leia. It was good to catch up.”

Mara nodded. “It was.” That didn’t mean she could afford to be stupid enough to do it again.“I’ll talk to you later.” She lifted a hand as she walked out, vividly aware of Skywalker’s eyes on her back until the turbolift doors closed and it whisked her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, Mara DOES have serious issues. I'm sure they won't be a problem AT ALL later on...


	5. Ch 4

“There will be twelve Council Beings on the Hearing committee.” Baruba manipulated the holoprojector controls beside his seat and the mock-up hovering over the table rotated.

Seated at Baruba’s left, Leia leaned forward. Luke stopped pacing to reluctantly step closer and folded his arms across his chest.

The mock-up showed a dais with a long, curved table front and center. Twelve hoverchairs lined the table, each with the face of a being positioned over it. The clips clearly came from file footage and published promotional holos, but the whole effect was polished — clear evidence of the attention to detail and expertise that Luke was coming to expect from Baruba’s staff.

“Each Being has been selected for their personal standing as well as their district’s proximity to the Incident,” the Bith explained. “The six beings seated closest to the center of the table are most important.” The holo illuminated the figures in those seats red. “Each has maneuvered their way into one of those seats with the hopes of using the proceedings to make a name for themselves.”

“The others,” the holo backlit the six beings in the outside seats with yellow, “are primarily political placeholders selected to give the correct public impression. They’re unlikely to vote against their more influential peers and so are worth little individual consideration.”

As Luke’s eyes swept over the holos, the unsettled feeling in his chest pitched toward distaste. He’d never paid much attention to Coruscant’s municipal government. He simply spent too much time off-planet on missions or working within the highest levels of the NR trying to secure the future of the Order to give much attention to what happened at the planetary level. Now, looking at the chosen Committee, the enduring influence of Imperial reign was still glaringly evident.

Of the twelve beings on the panel, two were women. One was a Bith. The rest were uniformly human males.

Luke vaguely recalled listening to Leia, Karrde, and a Senator whose name he couldn’t remember discussing how the major shipping companies had pulled out of the Core and followed the Imperial Remnant into exile when the Republic took over galactic governance. The same had happened in numerous industries, he knew, creating opportunities for the myriad of species repressed under Imperial rule to step into roles they’d previously been denied.

If he’d put any thought into it, he’d have assumed that dynamic had extended to the local halls of power. One glance at the Committee was enough to prove solidly otherwise. While the Senate buildings and other NR facilities teemed with beings of all stripes, human men remained disconcertingly overrepresented in municipal ranks. In fact, according to the notes hovering around the holo display, the only reason one of the women had landed an inner seat was that she hailed from one of Coruscant’s oldest, most well-heeled, and well-connected families. _Gael Shenuri_ , the label read. _Niece of the Empire’s last Minister of Finance._

Beside Shenuri were Tethys Mar-Shayal of the Temple District and his co-chair with Tan Divo of the Federal District. Rounding out the seats of honor were Dasead Truden of the Wicko District, Ginovae Quillan of the Residential District, and Torc Gaian of the Business District. Representatives from the Vacationer’s, Uscru, Galarb, Bindai, Neldiz, and Bonchaka Districts filled the positions at the fringes.

“The Governor-General will also make an appearance, of course,” Baruba continued, “but she has no real authority over the Hearing. We’ll court her for public appearances if appropriate, butthat will be the most she can offer us.”

Luke had met the Governor-General once or twice at State functions. She was about Han’s age, he remembered, friendly but brisk. From a thoroughly middle-class family, she’d started in the Imperial Bureau of Transportation and worked her way up through sheer determination. She was relatively new to her office, but she’d beaten the other contender by a landslide. Her family had definitely helped her win, according to Leia. Governor-General Naya Arkada was married to a Togruta with whom she’d adopted a Togruta war orphan whom the media had instantly fallen in love with. 

“From what I’ve heard,” Leia’s voice pulled Luke’s attention back to the moment, “Divo’s going to be our biggest problem.

“He won’t be an advocate,” Baruba agreed. “He has strong ties to the CSF and takes security concerns very seriously. He has little love for the Senate or the Jedi.”

“Great,” Luke muttered.

Leia shot him a look. Luke set his jaw and swallowed the rest of his griping.

“Despite his predispositions, Divo is not unreachable,” Baruba cleared his throat. “He holds avery public position and has no desire to upset his constituency.” He pinned Luke with a grave expression. “Your performance in this week’s interview with Poq’tal will be vital to connecting with that constituency and hemming people like Divo in.”

Luke made himself nod, but couldn’t force his taut body to do anything else. The farce of it all sickened him. It was a game. A pointless political game that had nothing to do with the truth. He wanted to walk out. To simply refuse to have any part of it.

He stayed where he was for Leia. Because this entire disaster affected her, too. Her career, her children. Everything. She knew this environment better than he ever would and she believed staying this course was their best choice. He could follow her lead. He would. At least for now.

* * *

“Brasck,” Mara spoke slowly into the comm, fighting the urge to drum her fingers on her desk in irritation, “if you pull out now you’re not going to see a credit.”

“I’m not seeing credits now with all the checks your people are putting my associates through,” Brasck snapped.

“It’ll be a temporary thing.”

“You can guarantee that?”

Mara closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead.“The need for shipping from third-parties continues to be as high as it’s ever been. So there was a setback. This is a fairly new operation and the New Republic overreacted —”

_“Is overreacting.”_

“Yes,” Mara allowed, plowing on, “they’re overreacting. But they’ll come to their senses soon.”

“A date, Jade. Give me a date when they’ll ease all these restrictions,” he demanded. “I can’t be putting my people through this. We have other clients. We can’t drop everything just because the NR wants to cop a feel for two days.”

Mara inhaled through her nose and felt the throbbing behind her eyes get worse. “I can’t give you a specific date right now.”

Brasck scoffed. “And they’re not lowering the tariffs any.”

“Brasck, you know as well as I do there’s work,” Mara bit out, impatiently. “And suppliers are also pushing for the restrictions to be eased.” _No._ No, she couldn’t raise her voice. She had to be the reasonable one. She changed tactics, lowered her voice cajolingly. “They’re spooked after T’llisk.”

“Yeah, well, my people are spooked about some Planetary Security goons.”

“I understand that. I’m just asking for a little time,” she coaxed. It felt like begging. Like being back on the streets of the Outer Rim after Endor, trying to — she cut off the memories, forced herself to hyper-focus on the moment, on her inflection. “There’s credits to be made, just tell your people to be patient for a little while longer.”

“You got a week, Jade, because Billey and Karrde go way back.”

A week sounded impossible but she tried for an upbeat tone. “All right. I’ll keep pushing from my end. So I can slot,” she looked down at her sheet, “Veresh and Undar for the lommite deliveries?”

“Not Veresh.”

Mara frowned, double-checking her information. “He’s the closest to the sector.”

“He doesn’t want to do it and the lommite deliveries are for when? Next week? It’ll take me that long to convince him. Try Ogu.”

Mara’s fingers flew over the controls. Information flashed across the holo screen and her heart sank. “He’s past the Slice right now.”

“It’s what I got for you right now. Take it or leave it.”

Mara set her jaw, anger and frustration welling hot in her chest.

“You give me more to work with if I can go back and tell them the restrictions are gone and they won’t get stopped and frisked more than twice in a single sector.”

“I know that.” It came out sharper than she intended and she softened her tone; she needed all the goodwill she could get. “I’m on it. Ogu it is. I’ll let Dorvalla Mining know and pass on the contract.”

“Good. We’ll be waiting.” He closed the line.

Mara immediately switched channels to the inter-office line. “Klinu, get the Dorvalla Mining package assembled and send it to me.”

Afterward she stared down at her datapad, blindly. Having to explain why a shipment they counted on moving in a week was going to be delayed would be unpleasant. Between grousing smugglers on one hand and entitled corporate representatives on the other, there was no one but her to catch the flak.

She should be used to it by now. She was. It was just… _worse_ , this week.

The Coruscant Finance article had appeared in the HoloNet’s scoop section just a couple of days ago. They’d made her look like an amateur. _Which you are,_ a voice whispered. Fine, but the debacle at Talasea hadn’t been her fault.It’d been Foryk who’d taken the whole thing from a situation to a tragedy, but he was a respected Senator. She was disposable, so of course the article had dumped the entire mess at her feet.

Actually, her whole week had gone downhill since the moment she’d left Skywalker’s place. Mara slid down her chair a bit, wearily. If she’d known by how much, she thought wryly, she might not have been in such a hurry to leave. The evening had been worth all the awkwardness of extricating herself at the end. She darted a wistful look towards the comm. Seeing him again was still a bad idea.

The hearing was going to begin in a matter of days, she was fairly sure. The media coverage had already increased. _Sludgenews trash_ , she could almost hear Skywalker say darkly, and something about it made a tendril of heat curl in her.

Her datapad pinged with Klinu’s assembled document. Mara caught herself and rubbed her face. She opened the document, feeling sheepish. Letting her mind wander along bizarre paths wasn’t going to help her any when she was holding the SA together much like Solo held his YT freighter. She gave a quick scan of the material then forwarded it along to her contact at Dorvalla.

Then, bracing herself, Mara toggled for Dorvalla Mining’s code.

“Dorvalla Mining Shipping,” the mechanical voice came on.

“Code four three seven,” Mara recited. Back under Karrde it’d been enough to tell his people and whoever he had dealings that he’d made the request. And he could still do that, she knew, which set her teeth on edge. One call to Billey and their objections would melt away. If he told them to wait it out, they would.

“Liaison Jade,” a scratchy voice came on the line.

“You received our documents?”

“The receiving date is wrong.”

Mara inhaled. “Not exactly.”

* * *

As he left Baruba’s office, Luke idly scanned his comm. No message from Mara. She hadn’t said anything concrete when she’d left, he reminded himself, putting the comm away.

Or maybe she just wasn’t comfortable comming. That made sense, considering.

Luke had never had a lover before Mara who wanted to role-play their first time together, much less one who’d jumped into serious role play without discussion or negotiation of any kind first.His heart squeezed as he remembered the detachment and strain on her face and in her sense in his bed before he’d put the pieces together and figured out what she wanted. The anxiety that had rolled off of her as she’d all but fled his apartment.

Was it that the way she’d been raised made her terrified of rejection? Or had some callous former lover shamed her for her desires enough that she couldn’t bear to voice them now?

Luke remembered the skittishness with which she’d thrust the take-out bag at him and smiled. Maybe ‘normal’ was just a struggle for her all around. Pulling up the hood of his cloak as he approached the public transit stop, Luke let the warmth of hope linger in his chest.

As oddly as she’d gone about it, Mara had shown him what she needed and he understood now. He’d be better prepared to read her cues next time, better able to show her he didn’t mind. That he wouldn’t judge or punish her for wanting things or asking for them.

If she came back — _when_ she came back — to him, he’d be ready.

* * *

“I’m sorry about that Coruscant Finance article,” Senator Tevv told her from across the table. “I had no idea Fei was out for a hatchet piece. If it’s any comfort, whenever a novice reporter thinks their name can be made out of dragging yours, you know you’ve reached a new level of politics.”

“Lucky me,” Mara flashed him a look bordering surly. “Except it’s not just my name it’s the Smuggler’s Alliance as a whole. She made it look like a waste of NR resources. The Trade Commission arranged that interview. I don’t want them to blame me for how it turned out.”

“You could have been a little more reserved,” Tevv said mildly. “Usually when a reporter digs, you just stay quiet long enough that they dig a hole for no one but themselves.”

Mara frowned. “I was going to, but she was going to write what she was going to write anyway.”

“I understand the impulse,” he said sympathetically. “Hard to keep quiet when someone is trashing your youngling. Don’t think I didn’t want to call her and give her a piece of my mind. I’m also invested in the SA.”

_Are you really?_ Mara couldn’t help thinking. Tevv was a Senator and a member of the Provisional Council. He probably had dozens of projects. Losing one wouldn’t harm his standing much. _Like Karrde_.

Mara looked out the tapcafe’s glass to the hanging gardens behind the Senate building, wrestling with her bitterness. She wasn’t being fair.

The SA was Tevv’s brainchild. He’d been the one to approach Karrde with the germ of an idea based on his own experience as a former smuggler that they’d then worked out between them into the first formal proposal. It was Tevv who made sure that the Trade Commission fast-tracked her through all the certifications and who’d served as her first contact to the shipping magnates when she’d gotten started a year ago.

Mara closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. So it hadn’t been easy fielding complaints and accusations left and right. That didn’t justify alienating what supporters she had. “I appreciate that, Senator.”

“I’m trying as hard as I can to smooth out the feathers from my side,” Tevv leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Foryk wants an appointment in the Security Committee. That’s why he’s going after the SA.”

Indignation flared. “He’s using the Talasea disaster to angle one?”

Tevv nodded. “According to more than a few of my sources.”

“Scumbag.” Being part of the former Rebellion and now a member of the Provisional Council meant Tevv was very well-connected. Like Organa-Solo he was also extremely busy. Of course, thinking of Organa-Solo only made her think of Skywalker. His open smile, the sound of his laugh, the feel of his fingers closing around her wrist.

A pathetic urge to comm him welled up and Mara quashed it ruthlessly.

Yes, fine, he’d commed. And left her a message. He was just being polite. It was probably the minimum his strange Outer Rim manners required after bedding someone. It didn’t change anything. She was doing him a favor by keeping her distance.

It was Tevv she should be focusing on. Given his schedule, it was a wonder he’d found time to meet with her.

But why now? Anxiety pricked her. Did he know something she didn’t? She’d tried reading him with the Force, but hadn’t been able to pick up anything other than his concern. Then again, absent a physical threat of danger she didn’t know if she _could_ read anything else. A familiar stab of frustration pierced her. Sometimes it felt like none of the skills she’d painstakingly trained in and cultivated over the years were of any use in her current life.

“Chances are low,” Tevv went on definitively, oblivious to her turmoil. “He isn’t a senior member yet. I am, and I’m not speaking on his behalf, obviously. He is making a very big fuss though. You’re doing well in keeping your head down and letting him tantrum.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered.

The Sullustan senator frowned. “How’s Karrde’s side of the equation?”

Mara tapped her index finger lightly on her glass of water. “Not great. I’ve got smugglers complaining about the extra security measures and companies complaining about things taking too long. Any idea when the Trade Commission might ease up all the checks? Or maybe something I can tell Director Zorrel to get them off my people’s backs? I’ll be meeting with him soon.”

Tevv’s cheek jowls flapped as he sighed. “Hard to say. It’s easier to roll these things out than to undo them.”

It was Mara’s turn to lean forward and lower her voice. “Tevv, I’m losing people. I can’t keep telling them to smile and take it. You know how smugglers are. We promised them the bare minimum of checks.”

“And Karrde? Can’t he persuade them to tolerate it for just a while longer?”

Mara’s eyes dropped to her glass.“Just a while isn’t specific enough.” She straightened up,her tone firming. “This isn’t Karrde’s primary business either.”

“I’m going to keep making comms on my end. What about the companies, any of them you can shore up?”

Mara scoffed. “We’re the cheapest game in town. I keep hearing it from them, but they’re not going anywhere. I just put a contract together for Dorvalla Mining.”

Tevv brightened. “That’s good. Where’s it headed to?”

“Clak’dor IV.”

“Ah, the Bith colony.”

“They’re not too happy about our time schedule, but like I said we’re the cheapest alternative. Actually,” she considered, “we might be the only one. I don’t think non-SA carriers go that far up the Rimma.”

“I’m making sure the Senate knows that,” Tevv assured her. “The Smuggler’s Alliance exists for a reason and given the current situation incidents can happen. It’s a matter of finding a path. Dorvalla is a big name and I think the lommite cargo is probably for a joint venture between Clak’dor IV and Duros. I’ll talk to Jenssar and see if he can give it play.”

Jenssar — that would be Senator SoBilles from Duros. Mara thought of the Coruscant Finance article and shook her head. “No, I’d rather keep a low profile for now. The less attention on the SA, the better. The last thing I need is for a media circus to make my carriers even more nervous. Just...if you could keep pressing on the Trade Commission.” Mara loathed asking for things but swallowed down the bitter taste in her mouth. “I can’t keep losing people. It hasn’t affected operations yet, but it could, Senator.” The line between the SA’s survival and the complete collapse of everything she’d worked so hard to build was breathtakingly thin. “We don’t want to see that happen.”

“Of course,” Tevv granted, his eyes projecting sympathy, echoed by his sense through the Force. “Jenssar might speak regardless, the venture is an important one for him, but I won’t bring it up. Hang in there with Zorrel, he’s not completely illogical.” His black eyes focused on Mara and she fought the urge to look elsewhere. “It goes without saying this is not your fault.”

Mara made herself nod. “I know.” She reached for her menu. “It’s just politics.”

* * *

Lighting and sound techs buzzed around the studio, strings of droids on their heels. Beings fussed with dozens of final touches on and around the set. In his peripheral vision, Luke could see one of Leia’s aides, a Tholosian female, nodding as Baruba’s head bowed towards her.

Of course the Bith had come. It had been his idea to schedule this interview in the first place and his staff that had written the script Luke had been drilled on. He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to make sure that Luke walked the line, however despairingly artificial the whole thing felt.

Masi Poq’tal, the Ishi Tib host of _Tonight with Masi Poq’tal_ leaned forward. “Thank you so much for reaching out to us Master Skywalker. It’s an honor.”

Luke gave her a smile. “It’s all mine. Your coverage of the B’ankor Memorial Refuge was truly impressive.”

Poq’tal spread her eyestalks, pleased. “Why thank you. We actually contacted Councilor Organa-Solo’s office for comment on that, but understood that she was heavily involved in other issues. I believe you were away from Coruscant at the time.”

Luke felt his smile grow tighter. He’d been with Kyp on Yavin 4. “Yes, I was.”

He was spared further pleasantries when the PA system blared, “one minute, gentlebeings!”

Luke straightened his spine. Poq’tal settled in her chair and the program’s music began playing as the Twi’lek camera operator began counting down. At the “one” Masi looked at the camera.

“Good evening Coruscant, and welcome to _Tonight with Masi Poq’tal_. I am Masi Poq’tal and tonight we have a very special guest with us, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. He will be talking to us about the Incident at the Imperial Palace three weeks ago.” She turned to Luke. “Thank you for coming on the show, Master Skywalker.”

“I appreciate you having me.” Baruba’s stare and that of Leia’s aide sat heavily on his skin.

“Reports from the authorities on what happened at the Palace are still vague at best. As we understand it there was an attack that went on for close to a full day until Master Skywalker was able to apprehend the suspect, his former apprentice, Kyp Durron. Apparently there were also explosions causing tremendous structural damage within the building. Master Skywalker, could you perhaps walk us through what happened?”

Luke had rehearsed thoroughly with his legal team and quickly fell into the script. “I think it’s probably best to start at the beginning with what I’ve managed to reconstruct myself over the last few weeks and give your viewers a bit of context if that’s all right.” He waited for Poq’tal’s subtle nod, then made sure he directed his gaze at the audience and cameras. “The Palace, as you know, was the site of the former Jedi Temple. What most beings don’t know is that the Temple itself as built on top an ancient Sith Temple.”

“Sith, the historical enemies of the Jedi?” Poq’tal’s tone was even but Luke sensed some of the usual skepticism.

“The Sith were an order of Force users whose approach to the Force was a corruption of Jedi teachings. They seem like fiction because the last large scale encounter between Jedi and Sith was the New Sith Wars about 1000 BBY, during which the Sith were thought to have been eradicated. ” This was an area he’d been cautioned to remain as tight lipped as possible about so as not to scare the populace. _Keep it to historiography,_ Baruba had said. “This is just to give you a bit of historical context,” Luke added.

“And so the Sith Temple under the former Jedi Temple -- now the Palace -- is from 1000 BBY?” Poq’tal clarified.

“Possibly even older. Around the period of the Great Galactic War which would make it closer to 3000 BBY, the end of which saw the Sith Empire’s Sacking of Coruscant.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I’m not certain how old the Sith Temple is precisely, and I’ve not been granted a chance to do a comprehensive examination of it. What I do know is that before the Jedi Temple first opened its doors several seals were put in place by the Jedi masters of the time to guard against whatever...vulnerabilities the Sith may have left behind to exploit.”

“Vulnerabilities?” Poq’tal echoed, curiosity seeping in. “Such as?”

Luke was ready for this question as well. “Traps. The Sith Order was notorious for building traps in places with great power. As the site of a Force nexus, a center for the concentration of Force energy, the area of the Jedi Temple is one such place. The Jedi Order was used to...sanitizing the areas Sith used. Rehabilitating them, as they did with the Palace site. The incident began when Mr. Durron discovered these seals.”

“Did Mr. Durran somehow manage to undo those seals?”

Luke nodded. Talking about Kyp, he’d been told, would be the most difficult part of the interview. _Try to be as indirect about the issue,_ Baruba had instructed. _Make it seem as if you're answering._ Luke hated all of it.

“Force sensitives can feel and experience intangible things in their environment as clearly as most beings experience heat or cold. Mr. Durron…” Luke stumbled a bit, “Mr. Durron is a singularly gifted individual when it comes to the Force, and I believe he had been suffering from some upheaval prior to his arrival to Coruscant. In those conditions, he was...susceptible to the latent energies of the Sith Temple and engaged them in dangerous ways.”

“What exactly was the nature of what he unleashed?” Poq’tal leaned forward. “You must have seen the eyewitness accounts. Many are...difficult to believe and the authorities have declined to comment on them.”

“The authorities only want to reassure the populace, as I do, that there’s no need for concern,” Luke said, putting on his best soothing expression. “The situation has been resolved.”

“Yes,” Poq’tal pressed, “but can you elaborate what exactly happened at the Palace? What did you find when you arrived?” 

“The Sith Temple was underneath the center of the Palace, far down enough that unsealing a central portion tampered with the foundation on which the Temple was constructed. That gave rise to a powerful earthquake that shook the Palace district-- that was the primary cause of the structural damage to the building. Several of the inner duracrete pillars that comprise the scaffolding of the Palace bowed. Floors collapsed and the piping network was damaged, leading to the gas leaks, flooding and the fires that witnesses reported.”

“You saw this damage first hand?”

He couldn't keep the grim note out of his voice. “It was difficult to see, but that was my general impression of the area and what I saw as I moved around other parts of the Palace, yes.”

“No survivors.”

“In the remains of the Sith Temple?” Poq’tal nodded and Luke almost breathed out his relief. “Thankfully, that area had been uninhabited for centuries.”

“That is fortunate indeed.” Poq’tal turned to the camera. “We have to take a commercial break at this time, but please stay tuned for the second half of our exclusive interview with Master Skywalker.” The show’s music came on.

Baruba and Leia’s aide were heading towards him, probably to remind him again about the next portion of the script. Luke reached for his glass of water.

* * *

“Mara,” Klinu trailed her boss when she returned to the office after her meeting with Senator Tevv. “Ogu commed wanting to speak to you about security at Yag’Dhul.”

Mara made a face. “Yag’Dhul? Weren’t they at Bestine?”

Pausing in the doorway, Klinu nodded. “They took to lightspeed a couple hours ago according to the schedule.”

“I don’t see what they’re bothering me about,” Mara grumbled, rounding her desk. “Their standard permissions up to Clak’dor IV cover security over at Yag’Dhul.”

“They might not know that.”

Mara’s dropped into her chair with a thump. “How could they not know that?” She made an exasperated sound. “Get me Brasck.”

“You also have Pricon Metals waiting for a callback about a possible delivery,” Klinu paused, “to Brentaal.”

Mara’s response was automatic. “Brentaal is Core, we don’t deal with that. The Trade Bureau can find them someone.”

“Pricon is at the border of the Unknown Regions though. I think they mentioned needing us as far as the Colonies.”

Mara rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Wonderful. That’s going to go over smashingly well with Karrde’s people.”

“They’re smugglers.” Klinu’s hands played on her datapad. “They have to know that this is how it is.”

Mara nodded heavily. “Yeah, but things are already prickly. Comm Elsi at Core Services — maybe they can nudge one of their carriers out of their cushy Core routes for once and take this off our hands. I can’t afford to keep pushing with our people like this.” She took out her datapad, going over her task list for the afternoon.

“I’ll get on it.” Another pause. “Nadir Corp rejected the candidate we sent them over.”

Mara cursed. “This is the second one!” she fumed as she toggled through the Nadir Corp file. “Do they think we’re a boutique service?” Among the things she least liked about her job was the entitlement of mid-level companies. They weren’t big enough to have their own exclusive carriers — unlike giants such as Sorosuub or CEC — but somehow thought the SA could serve that purpose and cater only to them. “What exactly is wrong with —” she looked down, “Captain Saire?” She raised a hand. “No. I don’t have time for this. If they don’t want our people then they can figure out who’ll take their shavit to Sluis Van themselves.”

“They asked for a comm back. Maybe it’s a cry for attention.”

Mara’s hand clenched on her desk. That was part of the job, she told herself. “Fine. Anything else while I was out?”

Another pause. She was beginning to dislike them, Mara thought. Klinu’s pauses never boded well for anything.

“Ently Zorrel from the Trade Commission called back about the meeting. They’d prefer first thing tomorrow morning.”

Mara closed her eyes. There it was. Zorrel probably wanted to scold her for the article that slashrat Fei wrote. Exactly the extra shavit she needed on top of everything else. At least it’d give her a chance to explain herself and try to persuade them to ease all the ridiculous security measures.

“All right,” Mara replied. “Comm Zorrel’s office back tell them to schedule me in at his convenience. But get me Brasck first and double-check with Sec at Yag’Dhul that all our edges are looped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not had the pleasure of being introduced to the cranky potato that is Tan Divo, please look him up on youtube in the relevant Clone Wars clips. 
> 
> I *may* have channeled frustrations from a previous life as a food service manager into writing Mara's frustrations about her job here. 
> 
> I did not make up the bit about there being a Sith Temple under the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. That's a canon thing. (A/N: when I say canon, as always I mean the EU.)


	6. Ch 5

“You’re doing well, Master Skywalker,” Baruba said as Leia’s aide fussed pointlessly around them both. “The next segment will contain more questions about Mr. Durron, so continue to stick to the script, please.”

Luke looked off to where Poq’tal was talking to one of the producers, discontent sitting cold and heavy in his stomach. “It isn’t right to blame this all on Kyp.”

“It is not about blame,” Baruba corrected, as he always did when Luke voiced that objection. “It’s about establishing a narrative.”

Luke stifled a sigh. Poq’tal reclaimed her seat and Baruba acknowledged her with a tip of his head before withdrawing, Leia’s aide in tow.

“Don’t let you breathe, huh,” Poq’tal commented, a grimacing kindness in her eyes.

Luke managed a bland smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in front of cameras. They worry.”

“That’s right. You’ve been away from Coruscant a great deal, haven’t you?” Her voice turned wry. “I hope you enjoyed the peace and quiet while you had it.”

The music started just then and Poq'tal turned to the camera, all professionalism.

“Welcome back. If you’ve just tuned in, we are with Master Luke Skywalker speaking about the devastating incident at the Imperial Palace three weeks ago. Master Skywalker was personally responsible for stopping the attack, which he claims started with Mr. Durron’s unsealing of an ancient Sith Temple built into the Palace’s foundation. Master Skywalker, CSF reports that Mr. Durron was your apprentice at the time, yet you only arrived sometime after the attack began. Why the delay?”

“Mr. Durron and I were away near the Colonies when he left my company. I was not aware of how troubled he was, and believed that he was simply taking some time for himself.I immediately began tracking his whereabouts as soon as I had reason to think he was unwell, but given the distance I had to cover, it took me some time to arrive.”

Poq’tal nodded, seriously. “Mr. Durron is currently at an undisclosed medcenter, is that correct?”

“Yes, he is currently being treated and monitored, and his Force abilities are heavily curtailed. The public has nothing to fear from him any longer.”

“Can you tell us more about how someone of his abilities is being contained?”

“I’m not at liberty to share those details, no. But I oversaw their implementation myself when I took him into custody, and can verify their effectiveness.”

“That’s very relieving to hear, thank you.” Poq’tal cocked her head. “Can you speak to Mr. Durron’s state when you took him into custody? Was he aware of the damage he’d caused?”

Luke paused, hearing an echo of Ben Kenobi in his head. _It’s all about your point of view._ He swallowed down the bitterness on his tongue. “Mr. Durron was not himself at that time.”

Poq’tal made a sad little noise and shook her head. “Master Skywalker, I understand that after you contained Mr. Durron, you returned to the Palace to assist with the search for survivors. What can you tell us about those search and rescue efforts?”

“I did participate, but all of the credit belongs to CSF and the Coruscant Rescue Ops for their brave and coordinated response to the situation,” Luke answered, consciously seeking out and looking directly into the recording droid’s lens. “Both forces lost some incredibly brave beings in the effort and are due the City’s utmost gratitude and respect.”

“Yes, we here at _Tonight_ want to extend our own gratitude in memory of those beings who lost their lives in the rescue efforts. We will provide the names we have in memoriam after the show. Master Skywalker, we know that a hearing on this matter is scheduled to start in several days. Can you tell our viewers what they can expect from that hearing and your involvement in it?”

“Yes, of course. After such a devastating event, it is important to thoroughly investigate all the factors that led to it happening and what measures can be taken to ensure something like this doesn’t happen again. I am in complete support of the Senate’s Inquest and will do whatever I can to help find those answers.”

Poq’tal nodded. “We look forward to that discussion as well, and we thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Master Skywalker.” She faced the recording device head-on. “And thank you for joining us in this special edition of _Tonight with Masi Poq’ta_ l. Stay tuned for our next segment highlighting little known facts about the Palace and its history coming up in just a moment.”

The music started up and Poq’tal thanked him again. Luke nodded, then was quick to step away from the stage. He didn’t see Baruba anywhere, which probably meant that either the Bith had been needed elsewhere or that Luke had done a passable job. Either way he was glad for one less pair of eyes on him.

Csilene, Leia’s aide, was still there, however. She immediately guided him into the back hall.“You have a meeting over at the Neimodian Embassy. Over the Pjal Contract.”

Luke’s heart sank. He’d seen Leia’s point when she’d insisted that continuing to offer his mediation services would help keep him — and therefore the Jedi Order — in the public eye in a positive way. Given the circumstances, he hadn’t really been able to refuse. But tired and working on a headache from the bright lights and over-filtered air of the studio, the last thing he wanted was to spend the next several hours playing intermediary between rapacious Neimodians and avaricious Elomin.

Following Csilene out to the waiting airtaxi, he wondered if Mara did some version of this regularly. She probably enjoyed it more. She had a gift for arguing her points that had been fascinating to watch the few times he’d had the opportunity.

The thought sent warmth through him, his mind conjuring an image of her with the glass wine flute in her perfectly manicured hand, the curve of her nape on display, her lustrous hair in that prim updo. _Her new look suits her,_ he thought as they sped through the spacelanes.

_Maybe next time,_ she’d said. But it'd been days and he'd heard nothing from her. Were her fears of rejection or asking for things keeping her from picking up the comm? Or had she changed her mind? Luke pressed his lips together, considering. Then he went for his comm.

* * *

“I understand that there's need for more carriers in the Senex sector,” Mara told the Director of AgriFutures. Her private comm vibrated a message and she scanned down.

_Or I hear Solsol is very popular for their seafood wraps. Good for dine in or take out._

Her heart skipped in spite of herself. _Skywalker._ This was the second message he'd sent her in the last five minutes. Unbidden her mind flashed back to the feel of his hand at her cheek, the headiness of his kisses --

“Liaison? Liaison?”

Mara blinked, startling back to herself. “At — at this moment in time, we go by the priorities assigned by the New Republic’s Trade Bureau and that’s unfortunately out of my hands.”

Force, what was wrong with her? Losing her focus in the middle of a comm. _Nothing,_ Mara told herself sternly. Nothing was wrong. It had just been a long day. Again. And she was explaining the same material she’d explained scores of times. _Again._ “If you address your concerns to —”

Mara’s eyes snapped sideways as Klinu darted soundlessly into the office, her sense alarmed. Standing out of range of the holo-cam, the Cerean held up a piece of flimsy with blocky handwritten Aurebesh.

OGU PROBLEM

_Shavit._ “Director, may I return your comm? There’s a situation that needs my attention right now. Yes, I’ll contact you as soon as possible.” Mara shot a questioning look at Klinu, her mind racing. She barely heard the Twi’lek on the comm reply. “Yes, I’m sure that we can work something out if we expand the timetable. I will be in touch.” She closed the line with a sharp rap of her fingers on the controls.

“He’s panicking,” Klinu said as Mara’s fingers clicked in Ogu’s code on the desktop comm.

“Why?” Mara demanded. “We got all his documents cleared. And we just double-checked them a couple of hours ago with Yag’Dhul Sec and confirmed with Brasck.”

“I don’t know.” Klinu rubbed her high forehead with one hand fretfully. “He just commed, right before he hit the gravity well. He said something had happened, but there was interference. I tried to keep him on the line but it fizzed out before he could explain.”

“Interference’s normal.” It wasn’t fair to be sharp. Klinu had never been a smuggler.The only things she knew about hyperspace shipping she’d picked in basic research or under Mara’s tutelage during the last year. “Yag’Dhul’s a hub, Sec always messes with comms. It doesn’t mean anything. He has his permissions.”

Normal or not, it was still a spike of frustration when the line refused to connect. Mara keyed it shut and immediately opened another, this time to Brasck. “Keep trying Ogu,” she ordered Klinu. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

Klinu bolted for her own desk.

Brasck picked up. “Yeah?”

“Identification code is four-three-eight-seven-oh-four,” Mara spit out.

“Ah, Ja—”

“Have you talked to Ogu?”

“Yeah.” Brasck sounded offended. “Told him that all the documents lined up —”

“Then why is he calling me claiming problems? I thought he could do this job!”

“Hey now!” Brasck snapped. “You come to me for my people and I don’t appreciate —”

A light blinked on her comm, routed from Klinu. “I have another comm,” Mara bit out, then closed Brasck’s line with the jab of a finger. “Yes?”

“This is Yag’Dhul’s Security Force.”

_Kriff._ Mara forced calm pleasantness into her voice. “Gentlebeings. What can I do for you?”

“We have a carrier here bearing NR markings set to take the junction to the Rimma Trade Route. This was the contact code given for its overseeing office.”

“That is correct.” Mara used her most formal, most bored voice. “This is the Smuggler's Alliance, a subdivision of the New Republic's Trade Bureau. I trust you found all the documentation in order.”

“We did,” the other voice answered gruffly. “But current policy dictates a boarding is required before a carrier is cleared past Yag’Dhul and the carrier was...uncooperative. Our patrols reported evasive maneuvers and no response on the comm.”

_Kriff, kriff, kriff._

“My apologies, officers,” Mara said smoothly. “My office is currently trying to contact this carrier. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding. That boarding policy is obviously new and we were not informed. We ask for your understanding as we try to take care of this issue as quickly as possible.”

“We understand, but the carrier is currently in custody for suspicious activity.”

A wave of dismayed shock hit. “In custody?” Mara's hand shot out, groping for her datapad. “Hold while I get our Director of Security on the line.”

With her left hand, Mara queued up Isalen Prentash on the comm. With her right, she tapped out a frantic message to Klinu. _Get me all our carriers near Yag'Dhul._

Dorvalla had groused soundly enough about the delayed delivery time as it was. If this went belly up, she’d need another carrier ready immediately — and she’d probably have to eat the cost, besides.

The second line opened up. “What is it?” Pentash said, unbothered by niceties. 

“I have a carrier stopped at Yag’Dhul.”

“They’re finicky there,” he gruffed. “I’m pulling up their security sheet. Connect me.”

Mara linked the comm. “Yag’Dhul Security?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for holding. I have the Security Director of New Republic Shipping, Officer Isalen Prentash, on the line.”

A message from Klinu lit up and Mara glanced over at it. _Closest carrier we have is at Sullust._

Mara’s heart sank further. Sullust was a week out.

“Gentlebeings, what is this about?” Prentash’s voice came over the linked lines. “My security sheet for the New Republic carrier in question shows full permissions all the way up to Clak’dor IV.”

“That is correct, but suspicious activity gives grounds for detainment. The carrier’s answers to our hails were unclear and they immediately conducted evasive maneuvers —”

“We both know that’s not adequate grounds for boarding. And since detainment requires boarding, that’s a bit of an overreach,” Prentash sounded almost amused.

Mara remembered what it was like to have a job that regularly involved being equal parts unruffled and intimidating. She shouldn’t miss it. Still, the knot between her shoulder blades eased slightly. Prentash would get them out of this.

“The situation at Talasea —”

“Does not give you the right to bypass standard security protocols. Furthermore these carriers were given a full check over at,” Prentash dragged the word out as if looking for the place. “Bestine,” he concluded. “And everything is tip-top according to them.”

“Yes, but —”

“Oh, and look here,” Prentash sounded genuinely amused now. “I have a note in my files documenting a consistent problem with your security network interfering with standard ship communications.” His voice gathered a tone of finality. “Let’s not overcomplicate this, shall we? Someone on your end got twitchy, and if we escalate this, the press will get word and things will get ugly. We’re all very busy, so why don’t you agree to release them and we’ll agree to let it go, hmm? This carrier was transporting special cargo for a New Republic shipper who can’t really afford any delays.”

“Cargo?” The Sec officer repeated, clearly confused. “We found no cargo.”

“No cargo?” Mara blurted out, her dismay icing over into horror. “What do you mean no cargo?”

“The ship was examined shortly after detainment. They had no cargo,” the officer insisted.

“We need to talk to them,” Pentash said firmly as Mara’s head swam.“We will be expecting a comm from them within the hour and their release and full permissions for exiting the system two hours from that.”

“But —”

“I can get our Judicial Department involved otherwise.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Sec officer retorted, obviously disgruntled.

“Happy to hear it,” Pentash replied. “The Smuggler’s Alliance will be waiting.”

Yag’Dhul Security closed the line.

“Mara?”

This couldn’t be happening.

“Mara?” Pentash called again.

Mara snapped to attention. “Yes. I — thank you.” She swallowed against the sick knowledge already lodged in her chest. “They wouldn’t confiscate cargo without telling us, would they?”

“No. They would have told us from the beginning.”

Thick silence blanketed the comm line, and Mara knew that Pentash already done the same mental math that she had. Ogu may have been operating legally on this run, but he was a smuggler born and bred. He’d thought himself cornered, and what had he done? The same thing smugglers had been doing for millennia.

He’d dropped the cargo.

Pentash’s tone was gentle as he said, “If you need me to talk to anyone…”

“No,” Mara rasped, bowing her head over her desk, suddenly unbearably tired. “No. But I — I’ll be in touch.”

Pentash closed the line and Mara pressed the heels of her hands into her temples. _Not again._

* * *

Positioned on Level 5127, the Coruscant City Municipal Authorities Building usually had a commanding view of the planetary skyline. Today, however, the adjacent skylanes were so clogged with vehicle convoys, security hover-droids, and speeders emblazoned with _Coruscant Police Sector 417_ that Luke couldn’t see the edifice’s towering spire until the repulsarlimo was right on top of it.

“Media droids will be waiting,” Baruba advised as the vehicle slid to a stop on the VIP entrance platform. “Prepare yourself before stepping out.”

Luke nodded, trying not to resent the instruction. He had been a general in the New Republic fleet, to say nothing of being a Jedi. Court may not have been his standard arena but he wasn’t a child. Besides, Leia’s people had already given him a thorough going over this morning before Baruba had arrived to collect him. His hair was freshly cut, his blacks freshly pressed, and his boots had a military-grade shine. How much more could he do to demonstrate his readiness?

The door opened and a tan-skinned Gran in a CSF officer’s uniform stuck his head in, his hircine snout snuffling the air precautionarily. Three protruding eyes swiveled, taking in the whole of the limo’s interior in seconds. Luke felt a wash of sympathy for the being. With their sharp noses and vision that extended into the infrared, Gran were extremely sensitive to changes in scent and body temperature. The tension and excitement roiling around the building in the Force were loud — they couldn’t be any more pleasant experienced through advanced physical senses.

“Please exit,” the officer rumbled. “And proceed left.”

“Thank you.” Baruba took the lead, climbing calmly out of the door as soon as the officer withdrew.

Luke took a deep breath and followed him, refusing to shy away from the buzz and whir of the media droids zipping around the landing platform. He had nothing to hide, and he’d learned enough about the media in the years since the Battle of Yavin to understand the importance of projecting that.

Shoulders square, Luke strode beside Baruba through the well-guarded door where Building Sec waited. He was carefully and unfailingly polite as he was searched, and stayed impassively calm while Baruba and the head of Building Sec discussed the pass he’d been preemptively granted allowing him to carry his lightsaber inside, despite the standard weapons ban.

A seemingly interminable wait later, they joined the mass of beings flowing through the building’s broad, vaulted corridors toward the primary hearing chamber. Again, Luke kept his silence, ignoring the crowds and media to follow Baruba up a set of narrow, curving stairs, his boots sinking into the thick red carpet that covered every inch of the floor. Deeply cushioned seats in the front row of the balcony gave them an expansive view of the main chamber floor below. As promised by the pre-hearing holos Baruba had produced, a long, curved table dominated the dais.

Baruba’s comm went off and he turned aside to take it. Left to himself in a sort of detached bubble, Luke let his mind wander to Mara. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d seen her, and she hadn’t replied to any of his texts.

_She’s busy,_ he reminded himself for the dozenth time. Still, the unbroken silence seemed odd. He’d never known Mara to back down from confrontation, so if she wasn’t really interested in seeing him again, he’d have expected her to flat-out say so. But if she was, then why give him nothing for so long?

A murmur spread across the room below, dragging his attention back. Anticipation swept through the chamber, raising the fine hairs on Luke’s skin like a chill breeze.

A door behind the dais opened and beings all over the chamber scurried for their seats, shutting off devices, tucking away personal belongings, and assuming attentive postures. Small red dots of light popped to life around the perimeter of the chamber as media droids around the lower hall began recording.

One by one, the twelve Counsel Beings filed in and began to take their places at the table. Baruba hastily shut his comm off and buried it away. He was not a second too soon as a bailiff appeared at the top of the stairs to patrol the balcony, his sharp eyes and hand-held scanner looking for unauthorized devices in operation.

When all the Counsel Beings were seated, Tethys Mar-Shayal picked up a small mallet in front of his place and rapped it smartly against an ornate bronze gong positioned at the front of the table between his seat and Divo’s. The sound resonated, rippling out across the chamber and silence in its wake.

Mar-Shayal waited a full ten beats after the sound faded and Luke suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the unnecessary drama of it. Finally, the man leaned forward slightly. The microphone droid scuttled sideways around the gong to better position itself as he began to speak, his voice formal, sonorous and practiced.

“I, Tethys Mar-Shayal, Counselor of the Temple District of Coruscant, do hereby call this Inquest to order.” He solemnly recited the date and several formal designation numbers for the record, then continued. “Our first order of business is opening remarks by our esteemed Governor-General Naya Arkada.”

A door to the side of the dias opened and Arkada strode in. Immediately, her image was captured and duplicated from a half-dozen holo projectors throughout the chamber and its balconies. Luke could hear Leia in his head, reviewing the Governor-General’s wardrobe choices approvingly. Her pants suit was a muted shade of eggplant, shot through with gold embroidery — somber, but elegant and formal, Luke imagined his sister deciding. Her cloak was a crisp white, edged in matching gold that set off her caff-and-cream complexion and serious dark eyes. Her black hair was shot through with streaks of silver and pulled back in a complicated twist that reminded Luke of Mara’s, though hers had been less ornate.

The memory of Mara’s fire-gold hair flicking against his skin as she writhed under him derailed Luke’s attention. His palms heated at the remembered feel of pinning her wrists to the bed. She’d slammed her eyes shut when she came that first time, breathless as her body clenched around him. She’d been gorgeous like that, but he thought he might have liked the second time she’d come for him better — the sounds he’d wrenched from her, the way she’d shuddered like she might physically come apart when he’d touched her just right. He fought the sudden need to shift in his chair as his body responded to the memory.

“My fellow Coruscanti.” Arkada was speaking, and Luke forced himself to focus on her voice. “We are here today because one disturbed being infiltrated the Imperial Palace with dark intent and took the lives, directly or indirectly, of many of our fellow citizens. This Commission has been mandated to reconstruct as faithfully and impartially as possible the sequence of events immediately before and during that attack, so that the public have a legitimate account and to avoid further attacks in the future. Today we remember not only the beings within the palace who lost their lives but those caught in the chaos around the Palace, as well as those of the Coruscant Security Forces and Coruscant Rescue Operations who saved so many. Not since the end of the Clone Wars has Coruscant seen such destruction. We recognize the devastating impacts this Incident had and continued to have on the lives of all those affected. Yet we ask for your patience and prudence as this inquest begins. Only by letting this process take its course over due time can we hope to reach an enduring and effective conclusion.”

Patience and prudence was fine, Luke thought as Akada concluded her remarks and left the platform, but so long as the sludgenews was allowed to operate, there’d likely be little of either. In theory, the commission was a good idea. But he’d spent enough years in Leia’s circle, now, to know that this would inevitably degenerate into a spectacle whether the players wanted it to or not. Ultimately, it would take a miracle for any good to actually come of it.

At the main table, the microphone droid skittered over to Tan Divo, Council Being from the Senate District. “Thank you, Governor-General Arkada,” Divo drawled.

“Such an odd man,” Baruba muttered to himself, barely audibly.

“Gentlebeings,” Divo continued, an irritating twang in his voice that somehow perfectly matched his topato-shaped body and plump, rectangular head. “We have been called here today, and for the many standard days to come, to investigate the facts and circumstances relating to the recent and most unfortunate Palace Incident. We have been entrusted by the citizens of this great sovereign planet of Coruscant to determine the truth of the whole of this disturbing matter. As the Governor-General indicated, it is our solemn duty to seek to provide the fullest possible account of these events in sufficient detail to derive thorough and well-reasoned advisements on how to proceed.”

He was going to have to buy stock in pain relievers if he had to listen to that voice every day for the next few weeks, Luke reflected. Or perfect his Force-based pain-relieving techniques to Grandmaster level.

“These proceedings,” Divo’s tone sharpened and his beady eyes squinted at the assembly. “Will be conducted properly and professionally. No disruptions will be tolerated. We may not be the revered Galactic Senate, but my fellow Council Beings and I are the right and true authorities to investigate the truth of this matter. Make no mistake, Gentlebeings, this is a Coruscanti matter — not a galactic one. We will pursue it accordingly and impartially, regardless of the parties involved. Coruscant is counting on us, and we will do our duties according to every last letter of the applicable law.” He paused, letting that sink in, then continued more brightly. “Now, I turn these proceedings back over to my esteemed colleague, Counsel Being Mar-Shayal. Counsel Being?”

* * *

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, highlighting the stark austerity of the spacious corner office. A sea of unrelieved grey, it reminded Mara too much of the harsh and spartan offices of Imperial jailers on dedicated prison worlds. The similarities did nothing to ease the strain of the already unpleasant conversation she was here to have.

Her only consolation, modest as it was, was that the Trade Commissioner seemed to be every bit as aggravated and outraged as she was.

“They are not permitted to quit!” Zorrel spluttered, his bright pink skin darkening to an angry fuchsia hue. His pebbly black eyes narrowed to pinprick black holes and his nose tusks twitched. “We have a contract!”

_Smuggling ships,_ Mara thought, pressing her lips together until they hurt, _must seem like the incarnation of hell to an Elomin._ As a species, Elomin thrived on order. It was no surprise that they so quickly became apoplectic when confronted with the controlled chaos and defiance of authority that were hallmarks of most smuggling ships.

Why the New Republic thought it was a good idea to put the SA under the direct authority of a Trade Commission headed by an Elomin she couldn’t begin to fathom.

“The contract,” she reminded him now, barely keeping her tone in check, “states that carriers will accept cargo appropriate to their capacity for reasonable terms. Legally, Brasck is entirely within his rights to decide that the current conditions do not constitute reasonable terms and to refuse to accept jobs from the Alliance until those terms change.” She leaned forward, urgency in every line of her body. “Director, we _have_ to rescind the constant checks and send a strong message to sector Sec chiefs that they need to leave my people alone.”

“Impossible,” Zorrel snapped, the long, bristly hairs behind his ears standing on end. “Not only are our clients expressing fear of using your services now, but we have reporters wringing us out in the media! We must move decisively demonstrate our commitment to ensuring the safety and security of that which is entrusted to us.” He shook his head sharply. “The Commission has already been discussing the implementation of full background checks on every member of every crew authorized to carry Alliance-brokered cargo. There is nothing to do now but move up that timetable.” 

“They can’t!” The words were out of Mara’s mouth before she could stop or temper them. “I’m already hard-pressed finding carriers with the current security checks! You add more and I won’t have enough. I _won’t._ ”

Zorrel made a whistling sound as he inhaled. “Mind yourself, Liaison. We appreciate the difficulty of your position, but this must be done.”

Appreciate. What a joke. Mara clenched her jaw. He didn’t even know about Dorvalla. Not yet.

“You pay me to make this work.” Her skin burned like there were Dantari fire ants crawling underneath it and she jabbed a finger into the tabletop. “To understand smugglers, and I’m telling you,” she hit the table with her fingertip for emphasis on every word, “I. Will. Lose. Them. All. They won’t stand for it. And if I lose them, you lose them.”

“Come now, Liaison.” Zorrel’s tone turned scoffing. “They are not in the position of power here. We are the ones providing them with credits. Like it or not, they will abide by our decisions.”

“No,” Mara ground out, her muscles burning with tension. “They won’t. They operated well enough without us before, they can do it again. Brasck —”

“Can be replaced,” Zorrel interrupted with finality. He pushed his chair back, unfolding his lanky frame to scowl down at her. “Your carriers will comply or you will replace them.”

“I can’t make smugglers magically appear, Director.”

“I was under the impression your network was the best in the galaxy.”

Mara narrowed her eyes, fury crackling inside her. “Talon Karrde,” she enunciated precisely, “has his own bottom line. Just as our clients do. Just as the New Republic does. Smugglers under Karrde signed up for the Alliance based on a cost-benefit equation that was worth their while. You can’t change that and expect to keep them.”

“I had to go to Talasea’s Chancellor and explain to them why we sent their precious medication through a carrier that lost control of their crew.” Zorrel hissed. “ _I_ had to explain to them how these _scum_ destroyed the cargo and sent thousands to their deaths rather than cooperate with planetary security. It is _my_ office receiving calls about what we are doing to avoid further calamities.”

“I understand that,” Mara bit off without sympathy. She’d been fielding nastier calls about far less important business for a year now.For all his rank and status, Zorrel wouldn’t last a day doing her job. “But these incidents are outliers. You can’t structure an entire system to try to control outliers. Not without strangling the entire pipeline.”

“We can,” Zorrel said icily. “And we will. We will forward you the details when we finalize them.” He leaned forward, all menace. “You _will_ make this work, Liaison Jade. Anything else is unacceptable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I will be sneaking in uncomplimentary remarks or descriptions every time Divo shows up. He deserves it.
> 
> Also, now that the pressure is super racheted up on our favs, the smut returns next chapter!


	7. Ch 6

Luke flexed his hand against his thigh, aware of the tension in every muscle as Chairbeing Divo called the CSF Commissioner to the stand. Composed and wearing a pristine uniform, the Zabrak was almost unrecognizable. The last time Luke had seen him he’d been harried and smoke-stained, surrounded by the tumult of the CSF’s Field Communications post.

Now, the Commissioner sat with his datapad before him, the grimness of his dark eyes perfectly captured by the recording devices and magnified in the holo-projectors on either side of the dais.

“Thank you, Chairbeing Divo, and members of the Palace Incident Investigation Committee,” he said, his voice clear and strong. “I’d like to begin by stating that the situation my people encountered at the Palace was unprecedented. None of us have ever encountered anything like what we saw there, in person or in training simulations.”

“So noted,” Mar-Shayal replied. “Commissioner Ya’qul, can you tell us why Planetary Security was called to the Incident in the first place? It is the understanding of this Committee that threats to the Palace have always been handled by Palace Security. A force, I might add, which is well known for its robustness and ability to accommodate even the very large number of beings within the Palace at any given time.”

Ya’qul nodded. “Your understanding is correct, Chairbeing. Palace Security is — _was_ an autonomous force responsible for managing security concerns and emergencies within the Palace. CFS has never intervened in Palace affairs unless our presence was specifically requested.”

“But your presence was requested here?”

“Yes. Emphatically.”

“Can you describe for this Committee the circumstances under which that request was placed?”

“Palace Security contacted us at approximately 1500 local time about an unidentified threat in the lower levels of the Temple.” Ya’Qul motioned to his datapad. “With your permission, I would like to play the official recording of that call.” 

“Yes, do,” Divo spoke up quickly. “I, for one, would very much like to hear it.”

There was a brief pause and a shuffle as the room’s holo systems were checked and the recording cued up. Then, all the projectors in the chamber simultaneously crackled to life with the figure of a dark-skinned, square-jawed human male in the familiar uniform of a Palace Security officer. The insignia at his collar blared who he was even before he began to speak.

“CSF Central Line,” a calm, obviously mechanical voice said. “Please state the nature of your emergency.”

“This is Director of Temple Security Ishti Raisuun,” the man in the recording said gruffly. “Passcode Nern-Four-Peth-Seven-Wesk. I need to speak to Commissioner Ya’Qul immediately.”

“Transferring.”

There was a click on the recording, then Ya’Qul’s voice, wary and stern. “Director Raisuun.”

The Director’s tone changed. It became that of a familiar, a close colleague in an unguarded moment. “Urootor, we need your people — everyone you’ve got.”

“What’s going on over there?” Ya’qul’s tone matched his associate’s. “We got reports of an earthquake —”

“There’s something down there.” The creeping horror of the words made the fine hairs on the back of Luke’s neck rise, and he felt the icy ripple in the Force as others throughout the chamber responded with the same sickly unease.

“Say again?” Ya’qul’s tone on the recording was sharp.

“It’s more than an earthquake,” Raisuun bit out. Shouts and the sound of violent hissing and cracking interrupted. Then, “there’s something — _else_ , happening. We’ve got dead and wounded everywhere and I’m losing teams as fast as I can send them out. They’re just… _vanishing._ In the lower levels. Beings, droids — the few that have come back up are _wrong_ , Urootor. It’ll be a stain on my record for the rest of my life, but we need help.”

“What about Rescue Ops? I thought they were —”

“They’re not enough.” Raisuun’s voice was strained. “I’m telling you there’s something down there. We need _everyone_ , Urootor. If you could see —”

“I hear you,” Ya’qul interrupted, fiercely. “And we’re coming.” A new alarm wailed across the recording. “You’re in the Command Center?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there, I’ll find you.” 

The recording cut off, the chamber’s holo-projectors picking up Ya’Qul’s horned face again.

“That was 1504,” he said, gravely. “About three hours after the first reports of an earthquake. Rescue Ops had been on the scene for more than two hours. I’m proud to say my people arrived there in record time.”

_CSF. Rescue Ops. Everyone but me,_ Luke thought, bitterly. He’d still been in hyperspace. Huddled in a borrowed bunk deep in a healing trance, trying to allay a bloody head wound. How many people had died in those early hours because of that delay?

Sour irony set in as he realized he’d likely know exactly how many by the end of this — he certainly wouldn’t be the only one to ask.

“And what did your officers do when they arrived on the scene, Commissioner?” Councilbeing Mar-Shayal asked.

“We took over responsibility for routing evacuees away from the Palace, freeing Rescue Ops and Palace Sec to focus on search and retrieval of beings remaining in the building.”

“Do you know, Commissioner,” Divo leaned forward, the holocam pivoting to catch and relay his lumpy face and beady eyes to the projectors, “why beings were still being evacuated from the Palace so long after the first call to clear out went through?”

“I did not work with the evacuation aspect of the event myself, Councilbeing,” Ya’Qul replied, his lips flattening into a hard line. “But my understanding is that not all of the Senators and staff believed evacuation was necessary.”

Luke suppressed a wince. There’d been grousing on that subject all over the holonet and Leia and her staff had already prepared an appropriate response when she was inevitably fingered for a comment. While she was personally safe in that her staff had evacuated and she herself had been off-planet at the time, she also had a well-earned reputation for not heading for the exit when ordered. Han dragging her off of Hoth kicking and screaming in the face of Vader’s arrival was legendary… and for once it wasn’t going to work to her advantage. 

“I was given to believe,” Ya’Qul continued, trying and not quite managing to fully suppress his dour tone, “that by the time it became evident to the reluctant beings in question that evacuation was, in fact, necessary, many of them were under the influence of the chemicals and… other forces… at work and they became unable to evacuate on their own.”

“Where in the emergency response arena did you primarily work, Commissioner?” Councilbeing Mar-Shayal asked, shuffling through data pads. 

“Field Comm,” Ya’Qul replied immediately. “We established a command post outside the Palace and I coordinated Rescue Ops, CSF, and Palace Sec from there.” His lips twisted. “Or at least I tried. If you’ll excuse the language, Councilbeings, it was hell in there.”

For a moment, Luke was back in the steaming under-levels of the Palace. The rubber seal of the breather he’d taken from a heap at the base of an emergency storage locker in the Palace Sec office clung to the stubble on his cheeks and the antiseptic tang of the heavily-oxygenated air pushing through the bulbous filters at his jawline burned his throat. A greyish-green miasma of unidentified chemicals, duracrete dust, and smoke swirled around the breather’s goggles, reducing visibility to a few murky meters.

Ghostly shapes coalesced around him, their moans muffled by the breather’s cycling. Their outlines faded again as he pushed on. They might have been beings — someone’s brother, parent, or child — but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even offer a word of comfort or direction. He had to get to Kyp. Had to make this stop.

His clothes were sticky with sweat and the sickly damp of the air. They pulled at his skin, itchy and chafing, but he pushed the irritation to the back of his mind, compartmentalizing it alongside the pulsing aches of his unhealed wounds. He needed every ounce of his attention to fight off the all-consuming fugue of darkness that flooded the lower levels of the Palace.

A low, menacing moan swirled in and around the screams and wails of horrified, agonized beings. The building’s failing walls and supports creaked and cracked.

In the municipal building, Luke took a slow, deep breath. The air was cool and crisp, the scents of the many beings in the room mechanically neutralized into a polite absence of smell that anchored him back in the moment.

They would play the recordings, he was sure. Bring in beings to testify to the horror and mess and suffering within the Palace. There was no need to relive it on his own. Not yet.

* * *

“Go home, Klinu.”

The Cerean looked up, exhaustion visible on her long face. “I can keep going a while longer.”

“Go home,” Mara repeated, firmly. “There will be more to do tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a lie. Brasck’s pulling out would leave them plugging leaks and trying to fill gaps for days. Already, the endless calls had her stomach twisting every time her comm chirped. There was nothing she could do about that, but she _could_ take some small care of her aide.

Klinu frowned, blinking wearily up at her, even as her sense suffused with relief. “If you’re sure...”

“I am.” Mara grabbed the datapad from her aide’s hand and started gathering up the ones that lay spread across her desk. “I’ll handle what’s left. You can pick back up when you get in tomorrow. We’ve gotten far enough to see everyone through at least until morning. Get some sleep. And food.”

She tried not to reflect on the irony of admonishing her aide about all the same things Aves used to scold her about. Things she was still terrible about doing without someone to require it of her. Datapads corralled, Mara followed the younger woman to the door, intent on locking it behind her. 

Klinu paused at the threshold, shrugging her jacket onto slender shoulders. “Will you call Captain Karrde again?”

“No.” Mara kept her expression dismissive, even though her lungs went tight. “He’s already doing what he can. It’ll be fine. We’ll work it out.”

“Of course.” Klinu didn’t sound convinced. “Good night.”

Mara nodded as her aide left, then keyed in the lock code. When the door shut and the lock clicked over, she rested her forehead against it and let her eyes fall shut. In the stillness, the sourness of her stomach crawled up her throat like old, undigested poison. She’d worked so hard, and ended up right back where she’d started. She’d turned herself inside out, and for nothing. To become a laughingstock, again.

_Stupid to think you’d ever be anything else,_ the ugly voice that lurked deep inside her hissed.

She’d given the Emperor everything and he’d left her with nothing but a price on her head and a life-sucking compulsion to throw herself at Skywalker’s lightsaber. She’d put herself back together after Wayland. Rebuilt from nothing to further Karrde and Tevv’s empires. Now they, too, were throwing her aside. The Force had its favorites and its whipping children, no matter what Skywalker said.

_Skywalker._ She’d never commed him back. Shouldn’t ever comm him back.

_Next time?_ His voice in her memory was bright with hope.

She shouldn’t.

Still, his last message floated to mind. Good-natured. Harmless. _Solsol is known for its seafood._

_Fierfek._ Mara dragged herself upright and made herself turn back toward her office.

* * *

A whirring sound brought Luke’s head up. The stylus he was holding paused over the page of his bantha-leather and textured-flimsy journal. Beneath him, the windowseat’s form cushions adjusted with the shift of his weight to maintain perfect support.

Luke’s brows scrunched as he tried to identify the source of the sound invading the stillness of his apartment. He didn’t have anything that made that noise, did he?

The sound stopped.

Curious, Luke waited. Nothing happened. Distracted, he glanced back at the page only for the noise to start again. It was coming from — where? In the room? No, but close.

This time he got up, leaving his journal and stylus on the ebonite top of his desk as he passed, tracking the sound. There was a ripple of anticipation in the Force. _Something_ was going on, but he didn’t get any sense of danger or alarm, which just made it all the more interesting.

On the far side of the lounge, a concealed door led to a short maintenance hallway situated between his bedroom and the kitchen. He’d only been in it once or twice to use the small but high-end garment laundering appliances it contained.

Behind that door, something clicked.

Truly intrigued now, Luke stuck a finger through the hidden pull and slid the door sideways. Directly ahead, a hatch in the far wall had opened, revealing what appeared to be a decently-sized compartment. Delight and befuddlement blossomed in Luke’s chest as Mara ducked out of the space and stood up.

“What are you doing?”

She swept a hand over her hair, still flawlessly pinned back in a refined twist, then brushed unnecessarily at her tunic. “You invited me.” Her tone was matter-of-fact but a wash of uncertainty accompanied the words in the Force. “To come back.”

“I did.” Luke moved forward quickly, reaching for her. Sliding a hand up her arm, he squeezed gently in reassurance and welcome, his frustration at not hearing from her vanishing. “I’m glad you’re here, I just —” he couldn’t keep a wry smile off his face. “I thought you’d use the front door.”

“No,” she said immediately. She leaned over, hiding her face from view as she wrenched at her boots, but couldn’t hide the tension humming suddenly across her body. “Look, Skywalker,” she bit out, dropping her boots and straightening. “I should have commed. I just — just because I’m — this isn’t —”

“Mara.” He interrupted, sliding his arm around her back and pressing one palm to her left arm, nudging her away from the hatch — Force forbid she dart back in and disappear — and guided her out of the hallway into the lounge. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” She gestured irritably toward his front door. “There’s security and media all over the lobby and I’m not going to run a gauntlet to get up here. Have everyone shove their snouts in where they don’t belong, just to —”

He cross-stepped in front of her, cupping her face in his hands and hungrily kissing her silent. If that was what kept her away, it would be solved.

For just a second Mara bristled. Then she leaned into his touch eagerly, her palms flattening against his bare chest before they stroked down to the soft, loose cotton where his sleep pants cinched at his hips. Her lips parted, inviting him to taste her, and Luke didn’t hesitate, deepening the kiss. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured when he finally broke the kiss to drift softer, lighter kisses across her cheeks and temples. “Did you eat dinner? I can feed you.”

Mara’s sense sparked hot and her fingers curled into the waistband of his pants. “Not what I want in my mouth right now.”

Her voice had gone low and smoky, and Luke’s body hardened even as his lips curved. “Yeah?”

“Mmhhmm.”

She pushed and he let her, his hands dropping to her hips as she walked him backward. Shoving him down onto his couch, she stripped off her top and flung it aside as she sank to her knees.

Luke dug his toes into the carpet’s thick pile and lifted his hips, letting her peel off his pants, his freed erection promptly straining toward his stomach.

Mara licked her lips, her eyes fixed on him, and pressed his knees apart. Her gaze flicked up to his as she leaned in. Heat crackled between them and pleasure streaked up Luke’s spine as Mara wrapped one hand around his length and licked languidly at the tip. Her tongue was warm, wet, and rough, and he sucked in a breath, squirming down slightly to broaden his stance and stretching one arm out so that he could cup her cheek. Her skin was soft under his touch and she didn’t take her eyes off him.

She was looking for something, he thought. He could give it to her. He could give her everything she wanted. He stroked a thumb over her cheekbone. “Are you going to be good for me tonight?”

She shivered, her eyes glinting, and he knew he’d said the right thing.

“I can be.” She leaned forward, eyes half-closing as she sucked him deep into her mouth.

Luke groaned, dropping his head back as his body responded enthusiastically to the attention. She started slow, teasing. Drawing all the way off him before slowly sliding down his length again, her tongue swirling almost lazily, like a manka cat toying with its prey. Luke let her for a while, until his need started to build past the point of leisurely pleasure. He made a few shallow thrusts — a hint Mara coyly ignored, drawing each sucking stroke out longer and slower.

_Minx._ Her words from last time came back to him. _Some people want a firm hand. Need it._

Luke’s lips quirked and he slid his hand back from where he’d been stroking her cheek. Burying his fingers in her hair he tugged, dislodging all of her carefully placed hairpins. Mara made a disgruntled noise and Luke swallowed a laugh.

Raking his hand out, he sent her red-gold locks tumbling down over her shoulders. A bright shock of want flared between them as the move tugged at her scalp, sparking her arousal.

He was going to put her on her knees, Luke decided instantly. Wrap those beautiful locks around his fingers and —

A grunt left him as Mara suddenly pushed forward, sinking him deep into her throat as she wrapped her lips around the base of his cock and sucked hard. Luke’s hand reflexively fisted in her hair and then his pulse was racing. Coherent thought became impossible as Mara picked up her pace, devouring him as if she were starving.

Luke struggled to regain his control, both his hands in her hair as he worked his hips in time with her ravenous mouth. Pressure built at the base of his spine and he realized she intended to make him finish.

Appealing as that was, it wasn’t what he wanted now. He wanted his hands on her, the taste of her on his tongue. “Mara.”

Mara ignored him, her hands gripping his thighs, her gaze fixed on his groin as she determinedly kept her pace.

“Mara.” He made his tone a warning this time, wrestling the remainder of his control back from the edge she’d driven it to.

She purred against him, the vibration making his eyes roll back and his muscles bunch. _Some people want a firm hand. Need it._ She’d come so hard, so beautifully last time…

Digging his right hand into her hair, Luke caught her arm with his left and bodily hauled her up and off of him. Mara gave a startled yelp as he dragged her onto his lap, then a low, muffled moan as he crushed his mouth to hers. 

* * *

Skywalker hauled her up, one hand in her hair, the other dragging down her body. Fingers dug under her waistband, fumbling at the fastener. Mara pressed her palms against his shoulders and shoved, not about to make it easy. But instead of tightening his grip Skywalker let go.

Mara stumbled backward, startled and off-balance. Skywalker lunged off the couch after her, yanking her pants and basics down. She tripped as he pulled them off her ankles, sprawling onto her back, legs splaying as one ankle caught in the fabric.

Instinctively she started to roll back upright, thinking to tackle him, but he was there, over her, his mouth at her throat, pressing her back as his fingers delved between her legs.

_“Oh.”_ The word was half a moan, muffled by her shoulder as he shoved his fingers inside her, then curled them, stroking against her inner walls.

Mara’s cheeks flamed. She was absurdly wet – Skywalker’s fingers were coated with her slick when he ripped them out of her and curved his hand around her hip.

She couldn’t stop the mewl of loss that escaped her at the sudden emptiness, but then he flipped her. Her hands slapped out reflexively, pressing into the thick carpet as Skywalker hauled her ass up and pressed in without pause, pushing inside before she was even fully positioned, stretching her, filling her.

The angle let him sink deep and it was too much — Mara buried her face in her shoulder, tried to muffle her cry as he pulled out, then thrust back in, shoving her over the edge. The world flashed white and she was aware of her entire body quaking, seizing with the intensity of it.

Skywalker laughed, damn him – an incredulous, triumphant bark of a sound behind her, half strangled by the effort it was no doubt taking him not to come himself as her body clamped down on him. Humiliation coiled in her gut behind the foggy remains of her pleasure, something else tight and unfamiliar swirling with it. _You need to get up,_ Mara thought, taking a shaky breath. _Push up and leave._

But when she moved it wasn’t her own unsteady muscles doing the work but Skywalker’s, his arm solid and unyielding at it wrapped across her chest and lifted her backward. He shifted at her back, adjusting so that he sat back between his heels, hard cock still lodged deep inside her. Her own legs, boneless and leaden, fell to either side of his, her thighs spread wide. Embarrassment knotted tighter in her chest. She opened her mouth but her muddled mind failed her and no words came out.

Skywalker’s left hand slid up the back of her neck, cupping the base of her skull in a motion that was startlingly intimate and tender — and then his fingers fisted closed around a handful of her hair. He tugged, pulling her head back against his shoulder and sending a shot of wicked heat straight to her still-throbbing core and making her gasp. 

Then he jerked his hand, twisting her head and crushing his mouth against hers. His tongue licked between her parted lips, teasing and taking until she was whining and squirming, desperate for more.

Mara scrabbled for purchase against the arm banded around her ribs, locking her in place. Skywalker chuckled again, breaking the kiss and letting go of her hair to catch both her pleasure-clumsy hands in his and bend them behind her back. Then he tucked her back into place, her hands caught uselessly between their bodies.

His left hand swept back into her hair, keeping her head back and baring the arch of her neck. Mara shivered as Skywalker left a trail of sucking kisses down her jaw. His right hand flattened against her ribs and stroked up to cup one breast. 

“So hot,” he murmured, nuzzling her throat. “Watching you get off on my cock in your mouth.”

Mara sucked in a breath, meant to bite out a sharp retort. It came out as a gasp when his fingers closed over a nipple and pinched sharply.

“Beautiful as you are,” his tone turned indulgent and Mara’s whole body flushed at the mortification of it. Or was it something else? She didn’t know. Couldn’t sort it out over the heat and the rippling pleasure from where his strong fingers stroked over to squeeze her other breast.

“I had to take all of that,” he continued, nipping at her shoulder, making sparks flare under her skin and drawing a hiss from her lips. “Because you weren’t being good for me.”

Mara’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t. She’d meant to. Maybe she really couldn’t. Maybe she was just —

“You’re going to be, though.” Skywalker licked up her throat, his mouth pausing directly beside her ear as his voice dropped. “You’re going to ride me until I get off,” he ordered, nipping beneath her ear teasingly. “And if you stop, or struggle, or try to move your hands from where I’ve put them…”

Mara squawked as he pinched her left nipple hard. “You —” she started breathlessly, irate.

He tugged her hair firmly, sending a fresh shot of lust straight to her core. At the same time, he scraped his teeth across her shoulder, making her whole body clench, and closed his fingers over her right nipple, tugging and pinching sternly. 

Heat scorched through her, burning away coherent thought. A whine tore itself out of her throat as her back arched, but Mara couldn’t think enough to be ashamed. Her hips rocked desperately, a ragged groan shuddering through her as her body worked against his, every gyration grinding his cock inside her, the friction setting her nerves alight. Every muscle was taut — hers, bowed out, on display, and open to his roaming fingers and mouth. His, locked tight behind her as he held her exactly where he wanted, feasted on her jaw, her throat, her shoulders.

Sweat covered her in a solid sheen as her pace kicked up, her body trembling as another orgasm mounted. Her breasts felt swollen from the unrelenting attention of his strong hand, the tips rosy and hard as he plucked at them again, sending shocks of pleasure-pain frissoning through her. Her legs started to cramp, the long day and her first climax taking their toll on her endurance.

“Mmm,” Skywalker hummed against her throat. “You’re not — going to be good. For me. Are you?” The words were broken, half-grunted as he angled his hips, hitting a point inside her that made stars burst behind her wide-open but unseeing eyes. “Going to — come.”

“Skywalker.” His name was a gasp —no, Force help her, a _sob_ on her lips. _I want to,_ she thought frantically, unable to make the words form around her panting, heaving gulps for air, around the tension in her body as she twisted, driving herself back and down onto him again, grinding against the sweet spot she’d never known she had. _I want to I can’t I’ve never I try I try I try —_

Skywalker’s hand stroked down, hot against her flushed skin and possessive, like he could brand his claim into her with the pressure of it. Over her ribs, down her abdomen, across her taut thigh.

“No.” Mara tried to clench her thighs shut, but even if his legs hadn’t been bracing hers open she was strung too tight, too desperate for the release that hovered just out of reach. But she didn’t want to fail, she _didn’t_ —

Skywalker dipped his fingers into her folds, stroked the calloused pads down to brush against his cock where she writhed feverishly on it, then up. His hand tightened in her hair and his breath was harsh and hot in her ear. “You just can’t be good.”

_No._ She’d meant to say it, yell it, but all that came out was a wordless wail as the tip of his forefinger scraped the underside of her clit and she shattered.

Somewhere far away Skywalker was cursing and Mara thought she might be moving but she couldn’t be sure. She was lost in beautiful static, her release short-circuiting everything else. There was solid heat against her back. _Skywalker,_ she thought, vaguely, and then she was gulping for air, her body lolling bonelessly in the aftershocks as Skywalker emptied himself inside her.

* * *

“Mara.”

She made a sound. It wasn’t words by any stretch and, aside from a twitch of her fingers, she didn’t move.

“Mara.” Luke could hear the tenderness in his own voice and hoped it wouldn’t spook her as it had last time. Gently, he cupped his right hand around her cheek, his torso pushed half-upright on his left elbow. “Hey.”

She turned her head slowly, as if it were a tremendous effort, and cracked bleary eyes open.

“Welcome back.” He smiled.

Mara’s lips parted but all that came out was garbled gibberish. Luke felt his brows knit, and he brushed his sense across hers as lightly as he could. She wouldn’t like it, he didn’t think, but concern was rising in his chest. She felt… _off_.

“Are you all right? I know that was…”

Her eyes fell shut again, her sense drifting even as she turned her head to nuzzle into the hand at her cheek.

“Oh, Mara.” Unable to help himself, Luke brushed his lips across her temple. She hummed faintly, satisfaction shimmering off her sense and he smiled. “Come on,” he said, affectionately. “If you’re that tired, I’ll put you to bed.”

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Luke slid an arm under Mara’s shoulders and lifted. There was a rush in the Force — a feeling of plummeting — and she flung an arm out, clumsy and alarmed, clutching at him.

“Whoa.” He pulled her to him, bracing her against his chest, his heart rate kicking up. Was something wrong? Was she sick? She hadn’t said —

“Dizzy,” she managed, sounding queasy. “Should… go.”

“Oh, no.”

Keeping her steady against him with one hand, Luke leaned back and stretched out, plucking a throw blanket from the couch and dragging it over to wrap it around Mara’s shoulders, lifting her disheveled hair out of the way to tuck it close around her. The sweat was cooling on his skin and had to be on hers as well, bringing a chill.

“You’re not going anywhere like this.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to think. The idea, when it occurred, was so stupid he almost kicked himself. “Mara, when’s the last time you ate?”

She blinked at him, blankly.

“Did you eat lunch?” he tried again.

“When?” she sounded confused.

Luke suppressed an exasperated smile. “Today. Did you eat lunch today?”

“No?” she looked puzzled.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“Tea.”

That, at least, sounded decisive, and he shook his head. He didn’t need to ask how long ago that had been, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d skipped dinner last night, besides. “Right.” He dropped a kiss on the side of her head. “Let’s get some food in you. Actually, hang on a second.”

Sliding her off his lap, he propped her back against the couch, then ducked around it into his bedroom. Crossing into the fresher, he pulled his robe off its hook and carried it back to Mara.

“Here.” Gently, he helped her discard the blanket and guide her arms into the thick, soft sleeves. Then he folded the garment closed over her chest. He wasn’t a big man, but his robe was designed to sit generously on his frame. Mara practically swam in it, even when he pulled her to her feet. “Dinner won’t take long,” he promised.

“I need to use the 'fresher.” She still looked a little groggy, but at least she sounded coherent now. The blankness was receding, too, her gaze drifting down herself and making her nose wrinkle.

“Sure.” Luke stroked a thumb across her jaw, then made himself step back out of the way. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He reached for his pants while Mara moved unsteadily toward his bedroom. Pants on, he padded barefoot toward the kitchen, mentally running through the contents of his conserv and chiller. Rummaging around, he pulled a carton of Pukkha broth out of the converv and a pack of land shrimp dumplings from the chiller. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would do. Pouring the broth into a pan, he shook the dumplings into a bowl and popped them into the pulse oven.

He had to find a way to convince Mara to stay tonight. He’d meant what he said — he wouldn’t misinterpret things if she did.

But the idea of falling asleep with her warm, beautiful body beside him appealed. So did the hope of having caff with her in the morning before he had to face another day of the hearing. Both possibilities tugged at him, enough that he was willing to try pushing a little harder against Mara’s boundaries this time. After all, she’d come back tonight. That had to mean he had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this smut so much, guys. And I love Mara sneaking into Luke's apartment. <3


	8. Ch 7

Mara slid Skywalker’s robe off her shoulders and fumbled it toward a hook on the wall. The ‘fresher was spacious, but not obscenely so, and comfortably warm. She glanced at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Her hair was a tumbled mess, her skin still flushed, and her thighs sticky with the aftermath of their pleasure. A quick survey of the space located everything she needed and she set about cleaning up.

After the rest of her was attended to, she managed to untangle her hair, patiently working her fingers through and extracting a handful of pins that had twisted and caught instead of coming loose and scattering all over Skywalker’s floor. She’d need to pick up the others — she’d just left them there. Sloppy.

There weren’t enough pins to redo her hair properly, but she could approximate. Scooping her hair back, she twisted it up, folding it around her fingers until it was contained and presentable. Then she carefully inserted the pins, securing it. It wasn’t a perfect job, but she felt distinctly better when she slipped the robe back on.

Passing through the bedroom she went back into the lounge. She could hear Skywalker in the kitchen but didn’t head toward him. Instead, she detoured around the couch, plucking up her scattered clothes and hairpins. She could take them back to the ‘fresher and get dressed. Spare Skywalker the weird awkwardness of last time.

“Mara?” As if her thought had conjured him, Skywalker appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and lounge. His head tilted, his expression flickering with something that might have been confusion as his eyes darted over her face, her hair, the clothes in her hands. “Is… everything all right?”

She got the sense that he was surprised and...wary? She wasn’t sure.

“Fine.” She smoothed the tunic in her hands automatically.

“Dinner is ready,” he told her, something hesitant in his voice that she couldn’t place. 

“Okay. Just a second.” No time to dress now, then. She twisted toward the small end table that abutted the couch. With deft, practiced movements, she quickly folded her clothes and stacked them neatly. The hairpins she left in a precise pile beside them. When she turned around, Skywalker was staring, clearly perplexed. “What?” she demanded, self-consciously.

“Nothing.” He seemed to shake himself. “Come let me feed you.”

With one last glance around, she followed him across the room and into the kitchen’s eating nook. He waved her toward the table to the right of the door as he stepped left toward the heating coil and pulse oven.

“It’s not fancy,” he said a little hurriedly, scooping something into a bowl and pouring a liquid of some kind over it. “But it’s pretty good. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” He came back to the table, ducking his head a little as he set the bowls down. “If you don’t like it, I can make something else.”

He was nervous, she realized, incredulously. That explained his strange behavior in the lounge just now. It was ridiculous, but the realization did nothing to lessen the unreasonable fondness that welled up alongside her exasperation.

“I haven’t eaten all day and you just kriffed me on your lounge floor until I passed out, Skywalker.” She pursed her lips at him and narrowed her eyes as she accepted the spoon he offered. “I think you can be fairly certain I won’t complain about dinner, regardless of what you made.”

As she’d hoped, the tart comment pulled him out of his head, his shoulders rolling back and leveling as his body relaxed. The grin that spread across his face as he sank into his chair was gratifying and made him more like the Outer Rim farm boy she knew he’d been than the Jedi he now was… right up until it slid straight into unmistakable mischief.

“I did,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “Just after you broke into my apartment. So I'm pretty sure you can afford to call me Luke."

Mara spread her napkin across her lap and considered that while she swallowed her first spoonful of what turned out to be a rich, salty broth. Whatever he’d worried about, he needn’t have. She was ravenous and the food was plenty good. He was radiating good humor at the moment, at any rate, so she raised an eyebrow and asked with thick dubiousness, “is that even allowed? You _are_ the New Republic's only Jedi. I’d hate to get myself in trouble for being disrespectful.”

“Not here.” Skywalker’s voice was surprisingly stern and he shook his head firmly. “I do the Jedi routine all day everywhere else. Here I’m just Luke.” He made a small circular motion with his free hand. “It’s part of why I picked here, instead of 500 Republica — like you asked me about last time. All that surveillance… it would have been like being on duty all the time. Always on display. Never just…” he shrugged, “me.”

“You’re on display a lot,” Mara observed, nibbling on a dumpling. She frowned at him. “Sometimes for the strangest things.”

“I know.” Skywalker rolled his eyes and propped an elbow on the table. “Do you remember they dragged me to, I dunno, four events, I think, when the Smuggler’s Alliance was getting launched?”

“Yes,” she answered, dryly. “Actually.”

How many times had she heard his name bandied about before she’d even been assigned an office or an aide? _This project is vital! Jedi Skywalker is from the Outer Rim, you know, and he personally attended…._

Even then, she’d known full well he’d just been showing up where Organa-Solo and company slotted him in. He’d been happy for her, of course — truly interested in her success with her new venture. But once the initial fanfare was completed, the NR had shuffled him off to the next thing without a chance to look back.

“It’s not that I minded,” he continued, quickly. “The Smuggler's Alliance is important. I mean, I don’t know a lot about galactic shipping or anything, but Leia felt really strongly and she likes Teev or — is that his name? The Senator?”

“Tevv,” Mara corrected, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably. She didn’t want to talk about work. Not now. Not here.

Fortunately, Skywalker didn’t seem that interested in continuing to talk about her work.

He swallowed a dumpling and shook his head. “See, that’s just it, though — you were the only person I really knew who was involved, and that wasn’t in an official capacity, really. They just wanted a Jedi around to make things look official.”

“And you’re the only one.” The broth was silky and buttery on her tongue, and Mara let herself thoroughly enjoy the last few bites now that conversation was back in safer territory.

“Yeah.” Skywalker frowned, pushing away his own empty bowl and folding his arms on the edge of the table, leaning toward her. “I’d kind of expected that would get me out of things, not into them. I mean, it’s not like the stuff they have me attending is _bad_.” He shrugged. “I just can’t imagine Ben or Yoda being carted out every time the Republic needed a bantha-and-anooba show for their latest environmental remediation project or whatever.” He made a sour face. “Do you have any idea how much time I lose sitting in meetings about what I should wear? I could have read half the Old Republic’s archives in the time I’ve spent listening to beings argue over whether I need a different cut of tunic or a belt of a different kind of leather!”

“Are you sure you’d want to read half the archives?” Mara folded her arms and arched an eyebrow.

Skywalker’s — _Luke’s_ — eyes crinkled as he chuckled. “I might skim a little,” he allowed. “Some of what I’ve found is… dense. But still — that much attention to my outfits? It’s crazy!”

Mara let a smirk touch her lips. “They have a point,” she goaded. “You don’t look like a Jedi Master, you know.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You’re too short, for one thing,” she joked. “And you smile too much. Then there’s the hair.” She gestured toward his head, donning a calculated, regretful expression while shaking her own. “Hopeless.”

Luke grinned outright, something sly in his face and sense when he sat back that instantly put her on guard. Her curiosity sparked, too, though. Skywalker was terrible at deviousness. What did he think he was up to?

“Well, Trader Jade,” he said, cocking his head at her. “Sometimes I don’t feel much like a Jedi.”

And there she recognized lust and intent in the air. Really? He’d just — her body flushed with heat at the visceral memory of his body against hers, his hands taking what they wanted.

“No?” she managed, aware that a response was necessary but suddenly finding her thoughts too muddled for a better reply.

“What about you?” Luke’s voice dropped, lower and smoother than a farm boy’s should have gone. “Do you still feel like a smuggler?” His eyes roamed over her, possessive and darkening with desire.

 _Kriff me,_ she thought, her core tightening just from watching him. _He’s game for more._ Was it like this for other people? When you had the same lover more than once?

She let her lips form a smirk. “Do I look like one?”

“No,” he added, his eyes lingering suggestively. “You don’t.”

Mara was a little startled to realize she was game for more, too. Straightening her spine, she pasted on a long-disused haughty expression that she’d perfected in Court when she was young, and soaked her tone with disdain.

“I will have you know, _Master Skywalker_ , that I haven’t been a smuggler for a year. I am a perfectly respectable government agent now.”

“Are you?” Luke rose, rounded the corner of the table and pushed her chair back, angling it so she faced him, his body close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. “Sounds like a cover to me. Maybe you really are just a smuggler.”

Something in her twinged but she only had a second to be aware of it. In the next instant Luke’s hand shot out, wrapping around her left arm and hauling her out of her chair. Planting one foot, he pivoted, propelling her past him.

“What do you think you’re —” she started, indignation still sharpening her tone as he pushed her face-first to the wall. 

“Against the wall.” Luke’s body pressed flush against her back, his hands catching her wrists and sliding down until his fingers intertwined with hers. She could feel him getting harder against her thigh as he arranged her hands flat on the wall. “I need to search you.”

“What?” Mara twisted her head around, staring at him over her shoulder. “You can’t be serious.”

“Smugglers,” he dropped his arms and wrapped them around her, his breath quickening. “Are known for contraband.”

Luke nuzzled her throat around the fluffy collar of the robe and rocked his hips against her, the combination sending a frisson of pleasure prickling across her skin. It felt good, good enough that Mara tipped her head to the side, in spite of herself, giving him better access. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in disapproval, nosing the fabric aside and nipping at her shoulder. “You can’t throw me off, Jade. I’m a Jedi, remember?”

She snorted a laugh, then sucked in a breath when his hands slid up and tugged the top of the robe open. Cooler air kissed her breasts, making her nipples harden and Luke took full advantage, pressing the peaked tips into his palms as he kneaded roughly. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.

“It’s my responsibility,” Luke said, low and hot in her ear, “to make sure you’re not a threat to anyone.” 

“Yeah?” Mara threw sense to the wind and arched her back, grinding her ass into his erection, drawing a moan and a retaliatory tug and pinch to her nipples that made her groan. “Do you even know how to frisk someone, Jedi?”

“I’ll have you know,” he retorted, mimicking her tone as he tugged at her belt, “that I’m quite capable.”

His hands flattened against her ribs and belly, holding her as he thrust against her backside, anticipatory, promising.

“I — I don’t,” she gasped, “think you are.”

He chuckled in her ear. “You’ll find out.” He cupped her left breast, squeezed as his right hand stroked down and curved between her legs to cup lightly — just enough to tease. “Stay like this, or I’ll have to charge you with resisting.”

“Hmph.” Mara rolled her hips, trying to get friction against his hand, but he pulled it away, his amusement washing over her when she responded with a resentful grunt. “Jedi can’t charge anyone.”

“We’re,” he chided, squatting behind her. “still… thorough, in our work.”

She fully intended to bite out a smart remark, but his hands closed around her calf, sliding the robe up and then her breath was rushing out as he mouthed at the back of her knee. That was — that shouldn’t feel that good. Luke switched one hand so that he could curl a palm around each of her legs, stroking long and firm down the sides then back up the front.

Mara leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, another moan escaping. She inched her legs apart a little wider, appalled at herself even as she did. Since when was she this needy? _Since the Talasea mess_ , her brain reminded her. _Since_ — No. She wasn't going to think about that now. Not with Luke lazily licking and kissing his way up the backs of her thighs. Not with his fingertips brushing against her slick folds before sweeping away, around her hips and back down, leaving her entire body flushed and a deep ache in her core.

She felt a wash of self-consciousness and loss when he stopped stroking her legs to bunch the robe at her hips, his mouth eagerly kissing across her ass. “Skywalker —”

He nipped, hard enough to make her yelp. “Not Skywalker,” he reminded her sternly. “Try again.”

Force help her, that _tone_ —

He dropped the robe and stood, spinning her around. His lips were reddened from the attentions he’d been lavishing on her and she leaned forward, unaccountably desperate to kiss him.

“Try again,” he pushed her back with one palm flat against her right shoulder.

Mara whined, then sucked in a gasp as his other hand dove between her legs, two fingers pushing in roughly. She arched her back, her right hand grasping at his hip, her left palm against the wall at her back, seeking balance as she pushed against his intruding hand. She wanted it — wanted _him_ , taking her. Wanted him to lift her up, kriff her right there against the wall.

“Force.” Luke ducked closer, keeping his body just off at an angle from hers so he could see the whole of her where the robe hung open, her shoulder pressed to the wall. “You’re so wet.”

He kissed her, his tongue licking at hers, hungry and demanding. He drew his fingers out, then thrust them back in and started swiftly finger-fucking her.

Mara clenched with every thrust, trying to keep him there, rolling her hips. If he’d just angle his hand — let her have the heel of it against her clit… “Sky—”

“No,” he scolded, sliding his hand down to her thigh.

 _“Please,”_ Mara whined. It was all she could do amid the yearning that crackled under her skin, short-circuiting thought and speech.

“Not Skywalker.” He slid his hand up, slowly.

“Luke,” she gasped. “Luke.”

“Good girl.”

Her entire body was hot, writhing sinuous and greedy against his touch. She closed her eyes as his fingers dipped inside her and dragged her hand away from his hip to press it between his legs where his erection strained against the thin fabric of his pants. She cupped and stroked, her pleasure driving up as his own pulsed between them. “ _Oh,_ I can —”

“Bribery, Jade?” He asked, harshly. He added a third finger unexpectedly on the next thrust, twisting them inside her.

Mara tossed her head back, moaning in need as he upped his pace. “Please. Luke, _please_ —”

Some tiny, far-away corner of her brain screeched that she was begging. But mortification was utterly beyond her now, with Luke’s head ducking down, his mouth closing over a nipple and sucking hard. She cried out, the sound echoey and wanton in her ears, and he bit down in the exact moment he twisted his hand, ground a knuckle into her clit just where she needed it —

Too slight.

She whimpered loud and shameless, but he didn’t vary his motion. She was trembling, her begging trailing from coherence to a babbled mishmash of _begoodIswearpleaseLukebesogoodIswear._

“No,” he rasped in her ear, straightening up and leaving her breasts aching at the loss of his mouth. “You’ll come when I let you.”

* * *

Luke wondered if Mara had any idea how gorgeous she was, her skin flushed, her head thrown back, her body shaking, that raw, unrestrained edge in her cries. He drank her in, watching intently, half drunk on how badly she wanted him. It’d come to a tipping point, though, and he eased his fingers out of her. Sliding one arm around her naked back under the robe, he scooped the other under her knees.

“Luke?” she nuzzled his chest, her movements drunkenly awkward, that bright edge still in her sense.

Smug pleasure lodged in his chest at the sight of her like that in his arms, but his own need still throbbed fiercely, making his steps quick and urgent as he carried her toward the bedroom. He hit the door release with an elbow, the lights automatically coming on to a dim setting.

“Luke?” she sounded slightly more alert that time, confused.

“Not good enough.” He tried to keep his tone stern, but it came out tight as his control wore thin. “If you had been, I’d have let you come already.”

He set her on her unsteady feet just long enough to push the robe off her shoulders, let it fall away, watching her mouth try to form words.

“I —”

Luke yanked the duvet back, swept her off her feet and deposited her on his bed. “You keep making me take things from you.”

Mara’s eyes went wide and Luke swallowed a pained groan at the sight of her, the feel of her response in the Force. “Instead of just giving them to me.”

Shucking his pants, he fisted his cock, spreading the moisture beading at his tip up his shaft as he climbed into the bed. Positioning himself over Mara, he pushed her onto her back and nuzzled her neck. “You gonna be good now?” he whispered into her ear and felt her shiver beneath him.

“Yes. Oh, yes. Yes.” She was breathless, her legs spreading for him without any instruction.

“That’s a good girl.” Luke braced his hands on either side of her as he pushed in, burying himself in the sweet, tight heat of her. Mara’s eyes slid half-shut, a desperate, pained expression crossing her face. “Oh, you wanted this.”

Shifting, he captured her wrists. Pulling them beside her head, Luke leaned his weight on them, pinning her in place. Mara whimpered, her ankles sliding over his thighs as she wrapped around him what little she could and lifted her hips in a wordless plea. He answered, gladly, thrusting into her hard and fast, snapping his hips until she was crying out each time, her body squirming against his, her eyes shut tight, her fingers flexing as if she needed something to grasp.

“You’re going to come again aren’t you?” he panted, his own pleasure rapidly surpassing his tight-fisted control. He wanted to keep going, to keep her here, like this — learn every sound he could wrench out of her.

 _“Please,”_ Mara whined.

Luke dropped his head, dragged his teeth across her shoulder as he thrust once more. Twice —

 _“Yes,”_ he hissed.

Mara arched, her body seizing around his as she came with a wail. Luke followed, the world vanishing into all-consuming heat and light as his own climax swallowed him whole.

After, when he could think and move again, Luke pulled out of her and slid over to lay beside her. Mara rolled half onto her side with a groan and Luke risked scooting closer, spooning himself against her back, one arm curving over her waist. He felt her stiffen, but she didn’t protest or pull away. He got a vague sense of unease clouded by exhaustion and wondered if she wasn’t used to being held after intimacy. He’d like to change that.

She let him for a while, before squirming out of his embrace and staggering toward the fresher. Luke drifted pleasantly, his body heavy with fatigue and relaxation. He dragged both eyes open when Mara re-emerged from the fresher, squinting with a frown when she bypassed the bed and headed for the bedroom door.

“Mara?”

She paused, one hand on the doorframe. “I should go.”

“Now?” He didn’t try to keep the disapproval out of his voice. “I can feel you, Mara — you’re exhausted. You really want to navigate public transit or find an airtaxi all the way back to your place at this hour?” He softened his tone. “I told you I wouldn’t misinterpret if you stayed. And the bed’s huge.”

She hesitated and he held his breath. Then, reluctantly, she turned around. Pleased, Luke held his tongue and pulled the covers back. Mara slid just barely into the bed and turned on her side away from him. In the time it took him to count to twenty, she was asleep, her breathing soft and even.

Luke lay on his back in the dark, content. He’d have liked to touch her, hold her as he fell asleep, but he was all right with waiting. This was still new between them. She’d get more comfortable with it — with him, like this. It would just take a little time. And patience.

He glanced over, appreciated the way the dim light filtering in through the shaded windows caught on her fair skin, the muscled curve of her shoulder. He could wait. For now, this was enough.

* * *

Luke woke when Mara again dragged herself from the bed and into the ‘fresher. The chrono said it was early, but not unreasonably so. Probably later than she was used to getting up, he guessed. Stretching, he winced at his sore muscles, then rolled out of bed.

Finding his sleep pants on the floor and grabbing a loose tunic worn and faded with age, Luke dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen.

“I made caf,” he said when Mara emerged from the bedroom. “I didn’t think you’d want hot chocolate. I don’t know how you prefer to take it, though.”

There’d been caff in the mornings on Wayland. It’d been military grade and quickly downed as they broke their small camp. Some days it had been the only thing Mara consumed. She’d taken it black then, but Luke suspected that had been a function of their limited supplies and her larger physical state wreaking havoc on her stomach rather than a personal preference.

“I’ve got sugar,” he added, sliding his gaze over her. She looked just as she had when she’d arrived the night before — presentable, if a little tired. He wished he could kiss her but didn’t dare. “And blue cream.”

“I don’t suppose you have any tea?”

Luke cocked his head at her with interest. “I don’t, I’m sorry. I can order some in —”

“Caff with two sugars is fine.”

“It’s all right — I was thinking of getting pastries, anyway. There’s this little —”

“I can’t stay,” she interrupted, firmly. “I’ve already missed my usual gym slot, and I need to stop at my apartment before work. I should be gone already.”

“Sure.” Luke told himself he understood as he reached for the sugar tin. She was busy. She had an important job. He couldn’t really afford to linger either. He had to be at the Hearing in a few hours, and Baruba would want to talk to him before that. Maybe Leia, too.

 _She stayed over,_ he reminded himself. That alone was a strong win. Besides, it was still early in… whatever this was they were doing. He handed her a mug, then turned to lean a hip on the counter and sipped his cocoa. “What kind of tea do you like?”

“Herbal.“ Mara frowned into her mug. “Do you have a code for the droid lift? It’s better if I don’t hot-wire it to go back down if I don’t have to.” She looked up sharply. “And don’t suggest I take the front door. There’s always some kind of media lurking in a building like this, and if your security is any good at all they’ll realize they don’t know how I got in.”

“I wouldn’t put you through that,” Luke made a face. “There’s not a lot of media, here, but Vaandt camps out a lot. She’s the Devaronian. Pushier than a street flammer on market day. No one should have to face her first thing in the morning. ”

Mara visibly relaxed at his understanding and reassurance. “I scoped it out yesterday,” she confided, lifting one hand to gesture as she spoke. “The droid lift was the easiest in because there was a delivery droid bringing in a load of [PowerPost](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/PowerPost) crates when I got here.”

Luke’s lips quirked. “Probably for Ambassador Lurll. He likes to hear the sound of his own voice and he was bragging last week that he had a stenographer droid coming. What else did you consider?” he asked curiously.

“Every third floor has a private landing pad. You need codes, but I might’ve been able to work something out — forge some. There’s also the maintenance lift.”

She was her own reconnaissance team, Luke thought, impressed. He’d done plenty of infiltrating for the Rebellion over the years, but that kind of intel had almost always been provided for him and his team. He’d rarely had to do it personally and always found it a lot of work, even with the Force to help. Mara had done it herself, on a whim, and quickly. He couldn’t think of anything she’d missed, either.

“I think the maintenance lift is our best bet,” Luke’s brow furrowed as he thought. “I don’t think I had them program a code for the droid lift, since Artoo’s staying with Leia for a while.” He chuckled. “He keeps Threepio sane when the twins are getting into mischief. He’s surprisingly good with them.” 

“You have codes for the maintenance lift?”

Luke nodded. “I’ve been getting stuff sent up pretty regularly. Trying to get everything in place before Han comes over to help me upgrade my personal sec stuff. The building managers rotate lift codes twice a week,” he added. “They’re not lax about security. But the codes I have are still good. In fact,” he brightened, “I’ve actually got stuff to go down. If you stand in the corner, out of view, the droid at the bottom should take the crate without seeing you at all.”

“I’ve used similar maneuvers before.” Mara sounded pleased. “I can slip out while its back is turned. Be out of sight before it enters the lift to check it’s all clear.”

“The exit should be on the northeast wall,” Luke told her. “There’s plenty of traffic coming and going, even at this hour, but it’s all droids. You shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Perfect.” Mara set her mug on the counter with a click.

Five minutes later, she was inside the lift with a single crate of goods positioned center stage.

“Mara —” What was the right thing to say? “I’m glad you came. And stayed.”

“I know.”

That was ambiguous, but it was something, Luke supposed. “You’ll come again?” he asked, tentatively, unable to keep the hope from his voice.

“I’ll think about it.” The words were non-committal, but there was a playful note under them that made Luke’s heart lift. “Get this thing moving, will you? Some of us have to work today.”

“Right. Knock ‘em dead, Jade.” Luke punched his code into the lift and waited until the doors closed and a soft whir told him it was steadily descending. Then he turned and headed back toward his apartment. He was going to have another cup of cocoa and then a very long, very hot shower in hopes of easing his protesting muscles.

His lips curved up. It had been a long time since he’d had the kind of sex that left him waking up feeling like he’d been Force-thrown into a wall. Mara hadn’t admitted it, but he’d surreptitiously watched the way she moved as they headed from his apartment to the lift. She clearly felt just as sore as he did. His smile expanded into a full blown grin. Everything else in his day might be unpleasant, but the memory of Mara snoring softly beside him in the dark would make everything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is not enough praise kink in the SW Legends fanfic community. If you've guessed that I am doing everything I can to remedy that, you're right. :wink:


	9. Ch 8

Mara picked up the elevated maglev at the stop just past Loijin Plaza. She switched from the Coral Line to the Green Line two stops later. Four stops after that, she hustled off and jogged the half block to her building. The Old Galactic Market district was soaked in a distinct sort of aged splendor. Not the well-heeled, ‘old money’ understated elegance of the neighborhoods closer to the Senate and Palace, but a kind of faded gilt and glitz. When she was paying attention, it reminded Mara of the older women who had attended Court in her youth, their faces overpainted, their dresses cut too low, and their giggles garishly too loud, as if they were unable to see - or maybe to accept - that their primes had passed.

This morning, she had neither a second nor an ounce of attention to spare for such foolishly extravagant musings. She’d already missed her morning workout - an oversight she’d surely regret later - but if she hurried, she might still skate into her office on time.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the lift laboriously hoisted itself to the third floor from the cloudcutter’s top, then darted into her tiny studio, throwing her comm unit onto the small square of cheap but spotlessly clean fiberplast that passed for a kitchen counter. She was already stripping off her clothes by the time the door’s auto-lock clicked behind her. She made short work of a sani-steam in her miniscule ‘fresher before grabbing fresh clothes, sweeping her hair back into a precise twist, shrugging on a short jacket, and shoving her feet back into her shoes.

Back on the Green Line a few minutes later, she buried herself in her data pad, trying to get a head start on the day while the train hurtled through it’s levitating, diamond-shaped tracks toward the Senate District.She skimmed through her messages - more than a dozen were marked as urgent, but a quick toggle through suggested they were nothing more than the usual - smugglers unhappy about delayed payments and mid-sized companies fussing at a perceived lack of service.

Far more important was the change to her schedule, helpfully highlighted in red by the being who had added it - Zorrel. _Shavit._ Technically, he had the authority to call mandatory comm meetings, but it was never a good sign when she had the misfortune to be included in what promised to be a solid waste of her morning.

Closing her eyes, Mara took a deep breath, slowly, counting to four as she inhaled. She held it for the same count, then counted to four again letting it out. She repeated the pattern, feeling her anxiety level out. It didn’t diminish, but it stopped escalating. That was the best she could hope for today, she supposed. She’d been wrong, she realized - not all of her former skills were useless in her current line of work. There was some awful irony, she reflected wryly as she disembarked at the crowded Senate Station, in it being her survival skills that helped her now instead of all the long hours she’d spent studying tactics and politics until she’d thought her head would burst. And the NR thought itself so very civilized and superior…

* * *

Shortly after the Commissioner ended his testimony, the commission called forth a stout Mon Cal to speak. He introduced himself as Murl Jemin, Chief of Staff of one of the senators from Mon Calamari. Luke was confused at first as to why he would be asked to speak, but his confusion quickly turned to dismay once the questioning began.

“Mr. Jemin,” Chairbeing Divo drew the name out gratingly. “Why did you not evacuate when the first call to do so went out from Palace Security?”

Jemin frowned, the expression exaggerated by the bulbous shape of his face. “I was not aware of the severity of the situation at the time,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I was in the middle of extremely important negotiations between the United Mon Cal Fisheries Alliance and the Quarren Trade Council. I assumed that the evacuation order was made out of excessive concern and not genuinely necessary.”

“So,” Divo pursed his pudgy lips, the gesture captured and projected at large by the holocam, “you are under the impression that Palace Security regularly inconveniences the esteemed members of the Senate because they can’t be trusted to judge safety threats appropriately?”

Luke kept his own face blank, despite his displeasure. Harping on the Senators seemed petty in the current circumstances.

“No,” Jemin retorted immediately. “I have nothing but the highest praise for Palace Sec. It’s simply that —” He paused. Then his features firmed. “Councilbeings,” he said, very calmly, his tone carefully respectful. “I appreciate that being here on Coruscant under the direct oppression of the Emperor and his Imperial forces during the recent war took a distinct and admirable strength. I have no doubt you endured terrible and trying things. But I would ask you to understand that while you were suffering here, those of us on the Rebellion’s front lines acclimated to a different sort of strain and sacrifice. We were constantly on the move, always under the threat of attack.”

Only the feeling of Baruba’s eyes on him kept Luke from automatically nodding empathetically. He vividly remembered the ever-present threat that lingered like smoke in the halls of cobbled-together up bases, the way they had stayed in each base until the last possible minute, aware that every time they fled there was one fewer place to go next time the Empire ferreted them out. They’d all worked under duress and just kept working when the Base started to shake around them. After a while, it just became routine. 

Chairbeing Mar-Shayal shot a look at Divo and intervened before his counterpart could speak again. “Mr. Jemin, we understand your position. Our intention is not to single out blame, but understand the choices made by everyone involved and use that information to improve outcomes in future emergencies.

Jemin bowed his head, his grief and regret wafting through the room. “We all carry our scars, Chairbeing, but I assure you there is not one being that wouldn’t have evacuated if they were fully aware of what was to unfold. It is my hope that you will find what you need to prevent something like this from ever happening again. Thank you.”

Luke tuned out Mar-Shayal’s closing remarks, his thoughts already turning in other directions as the Hearing adjourned for the day. When Baruba rose, so did he. Drifting silently behind his lawyer, he ignored the crowds and the calls from the media-beings clamoring outside until they were safely in their vehicle away from prying eyes.

“Is there really no way I can see Kyp?” Luke found himself asking as they zoomed through the spacelanes.

“You do receive updates about his condition,” Baruba replied.

“Yes, but that doesn’t compare to actually seeing him and speaking with him.”

“I was under the impression that he does not demonstrate much interest in that. Furthermore, I am afraid the situation has not changed from before. A visit to a young man under investigation will only cement your connection to him in the public’s imagination. The optics are not charitable.”

Luke thought the optics of a panel comprised of only human men questioning a lone Mon Cal were atrocious in and out of itself, but said nothing. The repulsorlimo soon dropped him off, Baruba telling Luke he would be picked him up for the next hearing at mid-morning.

As he was left on his own, Luke shook his head. It felt infantilizing to be supervised like this, even though he couldn’t argue that Baruba’s advice was useful. He went through the security checks and into the turbolift of his building.

* * *

“Thanks for helping me with this, Han. You, too, Artoo.”

The little droid cooed happily, his dome rotating and his photoreceptor eye swiveling as he preened.

“No problem, Kid.” Han flipped the data pad in his lap and plugged a cord into it, connecting it to another beside him on Luke’s couch. “Can never have too much security on these things. Don’t get me wrong, Versafunction did a fair job with this model, but they’re still pretty hackable with the standard programming. Doesn’t take much to fix, though. Not if you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I’d made time to put in a backup program before this whole mess.” Luke grimaced. “I didn’t realize how much stuff I’d accumulated until I lost it.” He shook his head and reached for a different size micro-probe. “So much knowledge has already been lost. The thought of losing it again -.”

“You won’t,” Han consoled, gesturing at Artoo before punching some commands into the second pad. “He’s givin’ you the same redundant backup protocol Leia uses for Alderaanean stuff. Separate servers, triple safeties - the works.” He frowned. “It is a pain, though. Buyin’ new stuff from scratch. Never thought I’d be glad we pack half the apartment when we take the kids somewhere, but I can’t imagine trying to have replaced all of their stuff when we moved.” 

Luke smiled wryly as he bent over the scan pad in his lap, worming the micro-probe into the slot along it’s base. Building security wouldn’t be thrilled if they found out he’d removed it, but the short-circuiter he was going to insert would jam the door if anyone tried to pick their way in and set off an alarm. The peace of mind in that was worth the risk of annoying the building Sec team.

“After all those years on the move with the Rebellion, I didn’t think I’ve ever have more than would fit in my x-wing.” 

“You didn’t,” Han retorted. “‘Cept for your Jedi stuff. Your other apartment barely looked like you lived there, till you got company.”

Luke pursed his lips. “That’s not what my requisitions list says,” he shot back, amiably. “I’ve gotten at least a dozen deliveries trying to put this place together - and it came half-furnished.”

“Still nothing from CSF?” Han asked, disentangling himself from the devices and cords strewn across the couch.

“No.” Luke poked at the device’s innards a second, then frowned and grabbed a mini prismatic crystal aligner from the tool kit yawing open at his knee. “It’s weird, too. Some of it they’re just being dumb about - you remember the flute I got from Endor?”

“Yeah.” Han scooped Luke’s comm device off the end table. Pinching the sides, he started unscrewing it. “Wha’did they come up with as an excuse for keeping that?”

“‘It’s evidence.’ That’s not the strange part, though. There’s stuff missing, Han.”

“Missing?” Solo looked up sharply, pausing with one half of the comm unit in each hand. “Destroyed, you mean?”

“No.” Irritation stabbed at him. “Just… not there. Not in the apartment - the holos of the apartment, I mean.”

Han snorted. “Save it, Kid. Leia told me you went.”

Luke ignored him. “Not in the apartment, not in the records of what the forensics team took out. I could see one or two things being destroyed or lost but it’s more than that. Something’s not right.” The scan pad beeped and he carefully withdrew the tools. “But no one will listen to me.”

“They’re still investigating,” Han said, his brow furrowing dubiously even as he said it. “Toss me that tuning stylus, will you?”

Luke fished the tool out and lobbed it over. Han caught it and prodded the comm’s internal wiring.

“I suppose it could turn up,” Luke allowed doubtfully. “Filing error, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Han cocked his head, peering at the comm. “Still, you should keep an eye out. Say something again if it doesn’t get sorted. I saw the files the lawyer made for you and Leia. There’s gonna be people on the hearing committee who aren’t so much fans of mystical space monks, you know. We gotta stay on top of things.”

Space monk. Luke’s fingers finished reassembling the device he held, but his eyes flicked to the data pad on the couch. It was sitting right where he’d very non-monkishly had Mara on her knees two weeks ago, his cock buried in her hot, hungry mouth. There’d been nothing mystical about the way he’d kriffed her after, either - just raw need and release. 

For a second, frustration itched under his skin. She’d said she’d come back. Well, heavily implied it, at least. But it had been radio silence since - not so much as a peep, despite his reaching out. Again. All right he hadn't actually asked her anything just hoped she'd made it home okay, but still, an acknowledgement would have been nice. She'd come back and spent the night -- that had to mean something. She was just busy.

He glanced at Han, his friend’s head bent low over the comm unit, and bit his tongue. The temptation to tell him about Mara was enormous. Han would understand how delicate the situation was and keep his secret. He’d no doubt rib him for it when they were alone, but even that would be a comfort these days where there was so little mirth left.

“What’s his name, Divo?” Han continued without looking up. “He’s a character. Used to be a CSF Inspector and now he’s the Councilbeing?”

The moment broken, Luke pushed to his feet, setting the scan pad aside. “And a chairperson of the Inquisition Committee. Giving anyone related to the Senate a hard time.”

Han looked over at him. “Something to prove, sounds like.”

“Yeah, I just wish I didn’t have to be in it, you know? All the hearings have been about so far is what the Senate did or didn’t. Feels like a waste of time.” He didn’t want to be in the middle of it, he wanted to check on Kyp.

//Holonet security programming is installed and functional,// Artoo interrupted with a trill.

“That was fast. Nice job.” Luke patted his friend’s domed head. “Let’s get you plugged into the environmental converter, then.”

Artoo burbled agreement as Luke started disconnecting cords from the holonet projector overhead and looping them over his arm so the droid could roll unhindered.

“Connection’s in the maintenance hall.”

Artoo trailed obediently behind him. //I can establish master codes?// tootled, hopefully.

“Of course you can.” Luke crouched beside him, briefly placing a hand on the top of one of his stout little legs. “You know helping Leia transition to her new office is temporary. Another month or two and you’ll be back with me full-time.”

Pleased, the droid rotated his dome and gave a happy whistle.

Luke smiled. “Come on, let’s get you hooked up.”

“Well it makes sense. Files said Divo’s got no love lost for the New Republic.” Han picked up where they’d left off when Luke re-emerged from the maintenance hall. “Thinks they’re rabble-rousers.”

“That’s got nothing to do with me, though.” Luke started cleaning up the tools that lay strewn about. “I believe in the New Republic, obviously.” He gestured in the general direction of the Palace District. “I let them parade me out, but this is just...it’s just politics, the Municipal Authority using the tragedy to air its grievances.” He shook his head, frowning as he stuck tools back in their spots in the kit.“I could be doing something else.” He looked down. “Something more important.”

“Trying to see Kyp, you mean.”

Luke continued picking up the tools.

“You can’t force someone to see you when they don’t want to.”

“I know that, but I don’t think Kyp is in any state to know what he wants. If I could just talk to him we could start parsing through...everything. I keep telling Baruba that, but he just won’t listen.”

Han looked at him a moment and Luke felt him wrestle before his tone lightened.“Beings are shoddy listeners in general,” He shrugged, and shot Luke a roguish grin before twisting the pieces of his comm back together. “Unless they’re smugglers, of course. We hear everything.”

“When’s the last time you smuggled anything?” Luke jibed.

“Last week,” Han retorted, indignantly. He tossed the reassembled comm at Luke with an indignant look that promptly turned smug. “I smuggled the last of those damn pastries out of the house and down to the hangar - gave ‘em to the techs so the kids would quit trying to sneak them off the counter.”

Luke plucked the device out of the air laughing, a little startled by the sound. He laughed so little recently - only when Mara had visited, actually. Wistfulness wafted through him and he pushed it aside, choosing to stay in the moment.

“Sounds almost as dangerous as the Kessel Run.” Tucking the comm in his pocket, he turned toward the kitchen. “We should celebrate with a drink while we wait for this stuff to load.” 

Two hours later, Luke’s apartment was put back together. On the surface it looked the same, but the new programming and securities lying just beneath the surface gave Luke tremendous peace of mind. There was little he could do about the things still missing from his old apartment or in CSF custody, but he wouldn’t end up in this position again. Even if the whole of Coruscant was laid to waste, everything he gathered from on out would be safe. Retrievable from off-world backup storage facilities.

At the door, Artoo gave a reluctant tootle. Luke’s chest squeezed.

“I know, buddy. I’ll miss you, too. But Leia needs you right now - you know she can’t keep up without you until she and her staff get their new offices up to speed.”

The droid warbled, pleased at the compliment. Rotating on his wheels, he rolled determinedly out into the hall as if he’d been dispatched on a vital mission.

“Thanks again for your help, Han.”

“Any time, Kid.” Han clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

“Sure. You, too.”

“Hey” Han expression took on some concern. “Baruba and them, they might be a pain but they know their stuff. Leia wouldn’t have hired them if they didn’t.”

“Yeah.”

“So just hang in there. They just want this to go away as quick as you do. All of us do. And then you can go see Kyp and see where his head is at. Focus on him without all this mess.”

Luke nodded.

“I’ll see you.” Han headed off down the hall after Artoo.

Luke pressed the button to close the door. For a moment, he stayed there, staring blankly at its flat grey surface, the silence settling around him. It made him aware, again, of how very alone he was. There had never been much privacy on the homestead, and even less once he’d been thrown into the Rebellion. Even in the tiny window of time between taking up the Jedi mantle full time and having Kyp thrust at him, he’d always had Artoo. He couldn’t resent that his mechanical friend was helping Leia, now - not when she desperately needed him to help compensate for the chaos that had resulted from unexpectedly losing two young interns and having to abruptly move offices.

Still, turning back to face his apartment alone, Luke wished that he, like Han, had someone to go home to. Someone to come home to him. He thought of Mara. The hearing made things tricky, and the pressure of her job surely wouldn’t help. But maybe… maybe.

* * *

“Maybe you should find someone else.”

Mara ground her teeth together and waited two beats, scraping together enough patience to keep her tone level before answering. “I am not finding someone else, Skve. You’ve got the right ships for this and you’re the best positioned to pick up the cargo and get it to Nez Paron in an acceptable time window.”

“I heard the NR is going to start requiring background checks,” Madla Skve pushed back. “I can’t be in the middle of a run when that comes down - not with my current crews.”

Fierfek - someone was leaking information.

“That is not going to happen,” she said, resolutely, willing the reticent smuggler to believe her. “Neither is anything else outside the plan.” She glanced back down at her data pad. “You are going to pick up the cargo from Sunspot Engineering’s facility on Balmorra and take it to Nez Paron. It’s a short trip - six days, max. My office has done all the work - you’ve already got all the clearances you need from Planet Sec on Balmorra and Nez Paron, and Prentash has been up one side of Samarine Sector Sec and down the other. They’re going to do a single quick stop to check your flimsy work - which I also already sent you - and then let you go. Keep control of your crew and everything will be fine. Better than fine - this run is good money.”

There was silence from the other end of the line. The hand not holding her data pad fisted, her nails digging into her skin. This was the third time today she’d had to cajole a captain into taking an assignment by spoon-feeding them every step, swearing up, down, and sideways that nothing could possibly go wrong. It wasn’t even midday yet.

_Good thing the Emperor taught you to lie so well_ , an ugly little voice in the back of her head commented smugly.

They weren’t lies - they weren’t. She didn’t do that anymore. She was legitimate now. By the skin of her teeth, maybe, but honest. She was.

“Look,” Mara pushed the words out through a tight throat. “Even if new regulations did come down, they wouldn’t affect you if you were already on the run. They’d only apply to new contracts - ones initiated after they went into place. Not this one. You’d be covered.”

“The NR tries anything like that and I’m out,” Skve said, immediately. “You’re warned, Jade.”

“Noted.” Calculations she didn’t want to think about ran through her head. If Skve left - no. Focus on now. “Can I send you the contract, then?”

“I’ll take this one,” Madla agreed, grudgingly. “It goes down with the slightest hiccup, though, and you can cross me off your list, just like Brasck.”

“Right, I’m sending it now.” Quickly, she keyed in the codes. “Clear skies.”

Skve cut the line. Mara let out a long, slow breath. Her head throbbed and her vision swam as she glanced down at her list. She still had two more comms to make, and they’d be just as ugly. Maybe worse. She hadn’t even looked at the new requests for carriers that had come in this morning, yet.

This isn’t sustainable. Her gut twisted and she bit her lip against the urge to scream in frustration. She needed more people. Needed more time. She wouldn’t get either.

A coppery tang stung her tongue, driving a spike of determination through her chest. Prying her locked jaw open through sheer force of will, she licked the blood off her lip and punched the next code into her comm unit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bits about Luke's stuff being missing are part of a changed plot thread, so if they don't make sense just ignore them. 
> 
> Also, big brother Han is the best! <3


	10. Ch 9

“This Committee calls Vash Jalba to the stand.”

Dread trickled through the Force, dribbling across Luke’s skin like slimy bogwater he couldn’t brush away. He watched, expression studiously blank, as a tall, lanky human male made his way from the witness section of the lower seating area up to the stand. A bailiff guided him to his place and he folded his long, skinny limbs into his seat, hands clasping nervously on the tabletop in front of him. He glanced, agitated, at the holo projector as it captured and magnified his face, and licked his lips anxiously before straightening up a little and lifting his chin like a man determined to face a firing squad bravely.

“Mr. Jalba, you are the Facilities Superintendent for the Palace, are you not?”

“I am.” His shoulders squared a little more. “I have been for 15 years.”

“So you served under the Empire, as well as the New Republic?”

“I did.” Dark eyes flashed with what might have been pride. “I was hired on as essential maintenance staff the year after the Purge. Worked my way up. No one knows the Palace better than I do. New Republic decided it couldn’t do without me when it came in.”

“Mr. Jalba, there have been suggestions during previous testimony heard by this Committee that the Palace was suffering from structural degradation that may have directly contributed to the recent tragedy. Examples include -,” the Councilbeing shuffled through a handful of flimsy, “doors that failed to open, trapping beings in corridors, and pipes and wiring conduits that failed to withstand the pressures for which they should have been rated. It has also come to our attention,” he peered accusingly down at the witness, “that key structural diagrams and facilities maps were out of date or simply missing when emergency responders attempted to access them in the height of the disaster. Can you speak to any of these assertions?”

“I can,” Jalba drew himself up, his face screwing up in righteous indignation. “Many of those things are the gods’ honest truth, and -” jabbing a finger at the dais, he said loudly, “it’s YOUR fault.” 

“Excuse me?” the Councilbeing blurted, flustered, before regaining control. Leaning forward, he fixed a prodigious glower on the Superintendent. “Would you care to explain that statement, Sir?”

“I would!” Jalba leaned forward, too.

Beside Luke, Baruba made a soft noise, interest and amusement flickering across his sense. He was enjoying this, Luke realized, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Sullustan settled in comfortably as if he were about to watch a holo he’d been looking forward to.

“First thing I did when the NR moved in was ask for funds to map the lower levels of the building,” Jalba announced, warming to his topic. “They were all off limits under the Empire, you know.”

“No, I was not aware -”

The Superintendent kept going, ignoring the interjection entirely. “You’d have thought an organization like the Jedi would keep better records,” he charged on. “But either they didn’t, or they kept them somewhere that got wiped out with them.”

“It didn’t matter much, at first - the Imperials just closed off huge sections. Didn’t need them, you know. Not with so much consolidation. I was told to keep my people out, and that was it.” He gestured. “Then the NR came in - waves of them! All the sudden, they were opening up every spare closet and stuffing Senators, aides, and representatives of every species in every nook and cranny! It was like a zoo!”

Luke remembered those crazy, hectic days. It seemed like directional holos in the Palace corridors changed daily as new representatives streamed in, staking their claims of every square meter of space they could wedge themselves into. At the time, it had felt like victory - returning peoples to the places of power the Emperor had driven them from.

“These waves of new inhabitants,” the Councilbeing inquired. “They prompted renovations of previously unused spaces?”

“Only the basics,” Jalba glared. “Updated power ports, furniture hauled out of storage, a good scrubbing. There wasn’t funds for anything else, not right away. Wasn’t even a requisition process for getting funds, if you can believe it! We made do for the first year, but after that it got to be a right mess.”

“In what way, Mr. Jalba?”

“You stuck your noses in!” He shook a knobby finger at them. “I put in a proposal for proper renovations - simple things, mind - and you shoved your greedy noses in the mix! Came back with a list six screens long of caveats and prerequisites!”

Vaguely, Luke recalled Leia’s pinched, flushed face. A rant he’d only half listened to over a family dinner about municipal authorities burying the infant government in flimsywork, everyone’s aides drowning in it.

“What types of prerequisites, exactly, are you referring to, Mr. Jalba?”

“A full building survey,” he shot back, immediately, riling. “Comprehensive traffic surveys. Separate, multi-year impact projections for every re-opened entrance. Refusal to even consider proposals unless we had assessments by at least two municipal authorities and bids from no less than six planetary-approved contractors! I won’t even get started on the ludicrous regulations about non-human-owned companies!”

“Mr. Jalba -.”

“It would take the gross income of a small mid-rim planet to bring the Temple up to code!” The Superintendent exclaimed, passionately. “And that’s IF there wasn’t a three-year backlog in your hellish permitting process!”

“Mr. Jalba!” The Councilbeing took a sharp breath and let it out in a huff. “Are you suggesting that we somehow played a role in this disaster?”

“I am.” Jalba jutted his chin forward. “If we’d been able to do even a fraction of what’s been proposed over the last eight years, there’s a strong chance we’d have known there was something out of sorts down level. We could have gotten it examined - identified structural weak points, shored them up! As it was, we couldn’t set foot in any of the lower levels because they were stuck in bureaucratic limbo - everything was wide open to go to hell when that earthquake hit!”

Frustration gnawed at Luke’s chest. It hadn’t been an earthquake. It had been Kyp/Kun. Nothing they could have done to the building would have protected against that - against him. This was pointless - it was wrong. A waste to let them go through yet another round of sitting and bickering about this instead of just telling everyone what really happened.

But to do that, everyone would have to know about Kyp. He’d be putting his apprentice on the chopping block. He couldn’t. He was responsible.

Jalba shook his head. “Those doors mentioned? If we’d been allowed to have crews down there touching up just the basics, those areas would have all been occupied. Maintained. Tested, per standard building protocols. We’d know which doors didn’t open and which ones - well.” 

“You raise very concerning points, Mr. Jalba,” another Councilbeing spoke up. “Points this Commission will follow up on, I assure you.”

* * *

Mara leaned against the wall in her office, head tilted back, eyes closed, tremendously grateful that she was on audio comm instead of visual. \

“They are not incompetent,” she said, pacing every word with careful precision. “They have done hundreds of successful runs without so much as stubbing a toe. Put pressure on any system and you’ll find -”

“You will find the incompetents who have been hiding behind their more capable comrades!” Zorrel snapped. “This endeavor has been in operation for a year! That should have been more than enough time to identify and weed out the sub-par participants and replace them with more desirable carriers.”

Mara pressed the palm of one hand into the corner of a shelving unit, digging the sharp edge into her skin. A year. She swallowed the sourness rising in her throat. She’s started building this from nothing a year ago. Started building structures and relationships and contract formats a year ago. Even if everything had been running a year ago instead of in its precarious infancy, how was she supposed to attract carriers when the NR pushed for oppressive terms and invasive inspections at every turn? It was only her hard work - endless nights of little sleep and stubborn comm calls and too much stim tea - that had gotten them the ones they had!

“No,” Zorrel continued, irate, “the problem here, Liaison, is not that we have been too strict, but that we have not been strict enough. Our carriers must be made to understand that their laxity will not be tolerated. These are not shipments of spice they are carrying to some Hutt backwater! These are legal, invaluable goods being transported to essential New Republic parties!”

Mara felt her lips twist in a wild, derisive grin. She’d have bet her holdout Zorrel had never so much as seen a packet of spice, much less a Hutt-controlled world. He’d certainly never seen the creatively horrific tortures spice dealers - or addicts for that matter - inflicted on those who dumped their cargo instead of delivering it.

“We must tighten our grip until they see the necessity of walking the line.” 

“Tightening our grip,” Mara said, slowly, enunciating each word as if he were slow, “will only increase the pressure. Cause more faultlines.” 

“We must be ruthless in cutting out the vermin,” Zorrel maintained. “Remove them and replace them with crews up to our standards.”

“This is a business, Director - just like any other. Smugglers talk and -” regardless of whatever Zorrel was obviously hallucinating in place of reality, “they read and do math.” Generally far better than the average being, in her experience, actually. “If we do not provide good terms they won’t work with us. And the more that drop out, the less likely anyone of quality or with options will sign on. I cannot force people to join the Alliance.” This wasn’t the Empire.

“If we do not improve our carriers we will lose our shippers,” Zorrel said, flatly.

He really didn’t understand how this worked. Or he didn’t care. She still had yet to figure out which. It might not matter, anyway. The message was the same - he had expectations and she would meet them or be discarded. That she’d ever hoped for something different spoke only to her own ignorance and foolishness.

“The Board and I will be discussing this. We will keep you informed.” Zorrel hung up.

* * *

“Officer Sothek, you were among the first of CSF to enter the Temple, is that correct?” Councilbeing Mar-Shayal asked.

“Yes, Chairbeing.” The Yinchorri on the stand radiated grimness. “I was part of Team Aleph, my precinct’s first-line Emergency Response Team [Esk Resk Trill].”

Luke hadn’t been able to release the tension that had settled in his spine since the Rescue Ops member had been called to give his testimony. After days with minutia about what the Senate had done or hadn't the Emergency Response Teams account signaled a different turn in the hearing.

“Was?” Mar-Shayal echoed.

“No one else survived.”

The words hit with a thud at the base of his stomach. Of course he knew of the long list of victims, it was regularly bandied about. Near twenty-thousand. An impossible number.

“I am sorry for your loss, Officer. Can you recount for us your memories of the Incident?”

Day after day of back and forths between Senate workers and the Municipal Authorities had obscured that, Luke realized. He didn’t know if that was worse. As the Yinchorri opened his mouth, Luke found his muscles tensing even more. With his sharply pressed CSF dress uniform, he was barely recognizable to Luke.

“Yes, Chairbeing. My team and I had been on duty two standard hours when every alarm in the station went off. We geared up immediately and moved out with the other teams. The Commissioner personally ordered us to accompany him into the Palace to internal Sec HQ while the rest of the Force established a Field Office outside.”

When Luke thought back to that day, most of his memories were cloudy. Like Bespin. Like watching someone else on a holo, where the soundtrack was too loud and distorting everything else. Except the soundtrack says over and over _find Kyp_.

That had been the mantra running through his every waking moment since he’d come to in a fold-out emergency med bunk on one of the survey team’s cartography shuttles in the hangar of the old Rebel base on Yavin.

The first thing he remembered was the press of the bandage against his head and his leg refusing to bend when he tried to sit up. Those memories were startlingly clear. Phantom pain thrumming to life, he fought to concentrate on what the Yinchorri was saying.

“It was immediately clear that there was a large-scale disaster in progress. Signs of structural damage were evident - cracks in the walls, debris strewn across the halls. There were beings in the halls - some of them hobbling in twos and threes toward exits. Others immobile - on the floor, in corners. We radioed their counts and positions back to ops for Esk Mern Trill recon.”

Before waking in that state was even more jumbled in Luke’s mind. He remembered walking down a stone corridor in one of the smaller temples -- in Yavin -- sweat beading on his skin in the humidity, the stale, moldy air an uncomfortable contrast to the earthy, fragrant jungle scents that rioted outside the ancient walls. Someone had been talking as they stepped into a large chamber and then… then he didn’t know.

There was a vague idea of movement. Adrenaline and shouting. Something old and evil. Fear, razor-edged and icy - not his own. From outside him - from Kyp? A laugh, deeper and richer than the Emperor’s had been, but carrying the same Dark power and malice. The name Kun in his head, though he couldn’t say now if he’d properly heard it or who had said it. Then there was only blackness, until the shuttle. Nothing but rush after.

_Find Kyp._

“But you did not stop,” Mar Shayal prompted, the sharpness of his tone drawing Luke back.

“No, Sir. Priority One was reaching Sec Herf Qek.”

Luke’s eyes lingered on the Yinchorri giving testimony, his hulking frame squared and rigid as if he were loathe to continue. A brownish hue had come to the man’s naturally green skin.

“Of course. And what did you find when you arrived?”

“A mess,” the Officer replied bluntly. “The first two turbo lifts we tried wouldn’t respond, even to emergency controls. We had to detour until we found one that did, then work back around to Sec Herf Qek once we got to the right floor. The Palace Sec Commander told us the repair crew he’d sent down to check out the sublevels was hours overdue to check in. He’d sent a Sec team down after them and lost them, too.”

“Lost?”

“Equipment malfunctions. Interference of some kind. They couldn’t get signals through. We had different gear, so he sent us down to find out what was going on. Report back.”

That would have been hours after Kyp had arrived -- no, Kun. He’d been searching for something Kyp couldn’t have possibly known existed. Luke’s heart twisted. He himself hadn’t known. Palace Sec and Rescue Ops hadn’t known what they’d been facing.

None of them had stood a chance.

“And is that what you did?”

“We went down. It was... slow going.”

“Because of damage to the building?”

“A third of the lowest main level was engulfed in flames. A couple sections were flooded with some kind of chemical - I don’t know what it was, but it was brown and registered on our scanners as toxic. It was like a labyrinth trying to get through. And there were beings.”

Luke drew in a slow breath, bracing himself.

“Beings who had still not evacuated?”

“Beings who couldn’t evacuate, Sir. Some of them were injured - trapped under partially collapsed sections of walls, floors and ceilings. Some of them were lying face down in whatever that toxic soup was. Floating, their bodies bloating and flesh falling off in chunks. The worst were the ones fighting each other. They were shrieking - these deranged battle cries - and throwing themselves at each other, beating each other to bloody pulps with fists, feet, anything they could get their hands on. It was - they - they weren’t right. If we tried to engage, to direct them out, they attacked us.”

Sith phantoms. Old Jedi texts cautioned against visiting Sith tombs and burial places in worlds like Ziost and Korriban. What lurks there are not ghosts in any sense of the word. They are dark side traps, an unnatural use of the Force to twist a victim’s mind against them, turn them into an abnormal version of them, something ghastly. And they'd been here, too. On Coruscant. No one had stood a chance.

* * *

The last time the muscles in Mara’s back had spasmed this hard, she was eighteen, lying in a cell on the Lusankya, her body convulsing in the aftermath of having a mindlink viciously and unexpectedly ripped from her head.

She breathed through it, refusing to let her professional mask crack in front of the Trade Bureau Commission.

“It is inconceivable that this could have happened.” Zorrel’s palm hit the meeting table with a crack.

Mara barely held back a wince as the sound echoed through her pounding head. “With respect,” she interjected, “it isn’t, Director. Everything that Sector Sec did -”

“These failures are not about Sector Security!” Zorrel cut her off. “First Talasea and now the Dorvalla Mining cargo - lost!” He flung his long-fingered hands out. “Destroyed! Dumped! Shot it out the back of a ship like refuse. Beings were counting on those supplies! This behavior is unprofessional to the extreme! They behaved like animals!”

Mara’s thoughts flashed to an old memory - the interior of a Super Star Destroyer, the command crew’s entrails draped like garland across the railings around the bridge pit, their mutilated bodies strewn around the decking, blood crusted thick across the decking. Those mutineers had been professionals - the pride of the Imperial Navy before they’d tried to steal the ship. Before she’d been sent in to butcher them like animals. To send a message.

She wrenched her thoughts back, blinking against the sharp light of the too-cold meeting room, pressing her forearms into the edge of the table, grounding herself in the pain.

“There has never been a space-faring force exempt from mutinies.” She said the words slowly, made them come out calm. “T’llisk is the first mutiny any of the major organizations participating in the Alliance have experienced in nearly a decade. It was an outlier. An aberration. The Dorvalla situation,” she pressed, refusing to be ignored on this point again, “was the direct result of our carriers being just as spooked by the Talasea fallout as everyone else. Our carriers,” she reminded them, stubbornly, “are, by definition, smugglers. For the whole of their careers, dumping cargo has been the single safest response to unexpected, unsurmountable threats.” She made a frustrated gesture. “Sector Sec threatened, they reacted. It’s not acceptable, but you can’t reprogram a lifetime of habit and self-preservation instinct overnight.” She would know.

“Your point is taken, Liaison Jade,” another board member spoke up. “We do appreciate the efforts you make to offer us insight into our carriers’... unfortunate attitudes and perspectives.”

It was a backhanded compliment and Mara felt it like a blow to the stomach. _Because you’re still one of them_ , the ugly voice supplied.

“However,” he continued, “insight can only carry us so far.”

“He is completely correct,” another board member nodded imperiously. “If these smugglers cannot manage themselves and their organizations correctly, we shall have to assist them in those efforts, whether they like it or not.”

“Yes,” Zorrel concurred, sternly. “That is why we will be publishing notice of the new contract terms first thing tomorrow morning.”

Mara’s stomach churned. “New terms.”

“As of tomorrow,” he announced, “carriers must submit full crew and passenger rosters before they will be forwarded contracts. Each being must be on record with and thoroughly vetted by this Commission or the contract will be withheld until appropriate adjustments are made or documentation submitted.”

“They won’t.” She said it without thinking, dread curling cold in her gut. “They’ll leave - en masse.”

“Then you will find us new carriers who will,” [being] said simply.

“And if I can’t?”

His jaw set. “We’re paying you to provide us with solutions, Liaison Jade. Not complaints or problems or arguments. The future of this Alliance rests with your office. We trust you’ll find yourself equal to the task with a little additional effort.”

Mara said no more than absolutely necessary for the remainder of the meeting, and gritted her way through farewells when the others departed. She wove her way against the flow of traffic on her way back to her office, the happy chatter of masses of beings on their way home for night a muffled roar in background, lost against her churning thoughts.

The crowds thinned further as she rode the lift to her floor and trudged down the long corridor to her office.

“I don’t see any blood,” Klinu attempted to joke, her nervousness biting at Mara’s skin like a hoard of hungry rats the instant she stepped through the door. “Does that mean it wasn’t too bad?”

“We’re not that lucky.” Mara held a datapad out to her. “The Commission has decided to shove their snouts even further up everyone’s shebs.” Frustration gnawed at her, twisting her shoulders into throbbing knots. 

“What?” Klinu accepted the pad gingerly, her face slackening in shock, then screwing up anxiously as she read Mara’s notes. “Ma’am, they can’t possibly -”

“They do.” Mara blew out a breath. “We’ll manage. We have to. I’ll go back through the list of our supporters. Find someone who can talk to them. Someone with leverage.”

Klinu bit her lip, and with good reason. She knew as well as Mara did how few beings there were to help them when the Trade Commission was united in its intent. She should offer comfort - say something reassuring. But she’d never been any good at that, and she was too tired now to try. Leaving Klinu to her distress, Mara stalked into her office.

Like her apartment, it was small and fastidiously neat despite the worn and more-than-well-used state of its few pieces of furniture. There was no window, but that had never mattered. It wasn’t as if she’d have had time to look out it if she’d had one.

Circling the desk, her eye landed on a small courier bag sitting in the center of its scratched top. The tracking tag attached to the seal indicated that it had arrived while she was in her meet and that Klinu had signed for it. For an instant, her mind flashed to the myriad deadly things that a package that size could contain. But no. They checked for those now as standard course with the District being on high-security alert. And her danger sense wasn’t pinging. It would, she was sure. It was the only thing the Force ever did for her without fail - screech when she was at serious risk of dying.

Huffing, she snatched the package off the desk. It was surprisingly light and she ripped it open, uninterested in curiosity. She had work to do. She didn’t have time for - an electrum pass key fell into her palm.

Mara’s stomach plummeted as her fingers closed over the small metal tab, heat engulfing her and making her cheeks flame. It had to be from Skywalker. Had to be. But - she floundered a moment, nausea making her shoulders curl in, her chin drop.

_He sent you a concubine key._

Mara had used enough similar keys to gain access to targets in her old life that there was no way to mistake it now. It wasn’t a surprise that he could get one - half his building had probably given out at least one to a mistress or preferred escort agency. But that he’d sent one to her -

Fury roared through her and Mara scrabbled in the pocket of her jacket for her comm. Great. Now even Skywalker was laughing at her. She’d be damned if she -

The text commo message light was blinking. For a split second, she seriously considered ignoring it, punching in Skywalker’s number and ripping him skull to groin for the arrogance - the _presumption_ -Her finger hit the button instead and a flat blue holo screen popped into life above the device.

_Mara - please don’t take the package I sent the wrong way. I know how it looks but it was the only pass I could get that would let you come and go safely without a security profile. I don’t want us to affect your work and I really don’t want you to stop coming. I know you're busy but I’d like to see you again. Soon. Please?_

She thumbed the screen off and walked, woodenly, the two steps it took to sink into her chair. Opening her hand in her lap, she stared at the pass. It was a terrible idea. Accepting the pass, going to see him again - all of it, every bit. Moreover, it was an idea that could only get worse until she got the SA sorted out and the hearings stopping disheveling his life. She was smarter than this. She was.

But something strangely giddy and warm was trickling through her at his idiotic, fumbling attempt to reassure her. _He cared._ He’d proven it when he’d helped her sneak out. Was trying to prove it now, with this. She thought of his hand, warm and gentle on her cheek. His amusement rippling over her in the Force as he laughed. She could have that - keep having it, just for herself. All she had to do was keep the key.

Decisively, Mara spun her chair toward her desk and keyed up a private holonet window.

* * *

A discrete indicator was blinking when Luke stepped inside his apartment. He ran down his mental list of indicator lights as he emptied his pockets onto his desk, his pulse kicking up when he recognized it as notice that he’d received an unexpected package. Pulling his comm out of his pocket, he checked it - again. Still no response from Mara. Daring to hope, he hurried to punch in the acceptance code and then waited impatiently.

When the delivery droid appeared at the door, Luke plucked the small box from its claws and retreated inside to eagerly rip off the outer packaging. Under the wrapping, he found a small, disposable electronic tag and a thin wooden box with bronze hinges. Swiping the tag on, he read the short message.

_I’ll take the key, but I’m not drinking any more of your terrible caff._

Delight blossomed in Luke’s chest. _She’s coming back._ It was as good as a promise, wasn’t it? She hadn’t misunderstood, either - this had to be proof.

Curiously, he pried the lid open. Swirling aurebesh script printed inside the top read First Cut Bellassan Dew Flower. Nestled in the bottom half of the box were a series of self-contained tea balls. They alternated between deep violet and blush pink in color and, when he sniffed them experimentally, made him think of the Nabooian wine he and Mara had shared - light and delicate, but heady.

Carefully closing the box, he carried it to his kitchen. It took only a minute to rearrange the cupboard where he stored the caff and, in short order, Mara’s tea box had pride of place on its own shelf. It looked elegant next to his simple caff tin and he thought again of the wine. Of Mara’s slender fingers confidently plucking the right glasses off the rack.

She’d looked good in her professional attire, a long-stemmed flute of fine wine in her hand. On impulse, Luke strode back into his lounge and keyed up a holonet search tool. Mara hadn’t responded to his overtures for seafood, but maybe he’d just been on the wrong track. Given her the wrong impression about how he saw… whatever this was they’d started. He’d find something better - take her somewhere nice.

Skimming down the list of search results, he smiled. Finally, something was going right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously, if this had been fully edited there would be names clarifying which councilbeings and trade board members were doing the talking in the beginning. But... that never happened. :shrug:
> 
> Also, the idea of sith phantoms wreaking havoc in the palace is one I'm SO happy I got to play with!


	11. Chapter 10

_How about a change of scenery? I can get us reservations for the Galatina at 2000 this Benduday. Their plicto steak is amazing and I trust you to pick a wine that makes it even better._

Mara stared at the text comm, blankly. What was Skywalker thinking? The Galatina?

 _Privacy,_ some part of her mind supplied, logically. The Galatina was very high end and could be counted on for discretion. _So no one will see you together._

But to go out… that wasn’t what she’d signed up for. Wasn’t what she’d offered. That was… like a date. A proper one. She’d never - well, she had. But not as herself. Dates were things her cover identities had done. Not her.Why would he ask, anyway?

 _You haven’t talked to him since you sent the tea,_ she scolded herself, lifting one hand to scrub at her face. That had to be it. He might only be condescending to this thing between them because the hearing was making his life hell and he needed the outlet, but he still wanted it - this. Them. And she’d been negligent and made him concerned that she wasn’t going to hold up her end of the arrangement. 

One more thing she’d let slip through the cracks as her world continued to fracture. All the more reason he shouldn’t attempt to pretend this was more than it was. She couldn’t manage this gracefully - how abysmally terrible would she be at a proper relationship? Too much to think about.

The device in her hand chirped urgently. Automatically, Mara clicked away from Skywalker’s message to the incoming call.

“Jade.”

“Liaison,” [name]’s grim tone set Mara’s teeth on edge and made her stomach twist. “We have a problem.”

 _Not another one._ She took a deep breath, kept her voice calm. “What is that, Director?”

“The Board has just received word that [publication] is assembling a piece on the Talasea incident.”

Shavit. “A repeat of the Coruscant Finance nonsense,” Mara bit out derisively.

“No,” [name] corrected, dourly. “According to our sources, this is no amateur scoop. It’s much worse. Top journalists have already begun interviews with Sec Officers and diplomats close to the incident. This will be a full section spread in the next edition, with extensive corresponding holonet coverage.”

 _No._ Mara’s world bled grey. Not now - the SA couldn’t handle this now. A few months ago - a month from now - but everything was too precarious. The extra weight _now_ -

“I’ll contact Media Relations -” she stumbled, automatically.

“We’ve already been in touch,” [name] interrupted, curtly. “They’re already doing what little there is to be done. Looking for satisfied customers to speak well of your endeavor, that sort of thing. In the meantime, there is no avoiding that this will break and it will make the ugliness of recent weeks seem mild by comparison. I suggest that you brace yourself, Liaison. We must be prepared to meet this head on - the Board will be meeting again to determine what we can do to counter these developments. We cannot afford to continue looking incompetent as the result of your smugglers’ transgressions. We will be in touch.”

The line cut. Mara’s eyes slid shut, fury and pain like acid in her chest. They were blaming her. For all of it.

 _Testing out robustness is part of the business,_ she heard Karrde say in her memory.

Mara’s hands fisted, determination stiffening her spine. _It’s just a test._ She’d passed harder tests in her lifetime. She wouldn’t crack under this one.

Shoving the comm unit in her pocket, she stalked toward the door. She wasn’t helpless. She could do her own recon and defense. There was still time to save this. To make the SA work. It wasn’t going to die - she wouldn’t allow it.

“Klinu!”

* * *

“I know this is difficult, officer, but this is how one of your teammates died, is it not?”

“Getel.” The Yinchorri looked ill. “There was a Rodian female, older, by herself. She was in a bad way. His adopted grandmother had been Rodian and he couldn’t shake the idea of her being like his gran - he left the team, told us to keep going, he just had to get her back and he’d catch up.”

“He didn’t rejoin you.”

“No, Sir. I found out later that she’d…” he cleared his throat. “She ripped his throat out with her teeth. Ate… chunks of him. She was still there, with his body, gnawing on his wrist when she was dragged out. She’s still on suicide watch, last I heard.”

Luke wanted to shut his eyes, to leave. _I should have stopped this somehow._ The thought seemed loud in the silence of the hearing room. _I should have never taken Kyp to Yavin. I should have known he’d be susceptible. I should have --_

“The rest of you,” the Chairbeing said, queasily, “kept going?”

“We had our mission.” The Yinchorri seemed relieved to keep moving. “None of the lifts worked - not even the emergency overrides. So Rhan hotwired one, kept the car out of the way so we could climb down into the sublevels. Wiring was torn out - dislodged by the earthquake, probably, so the emergency lighting was spotty. We had to use our own. Had to avoid touching the walls, too. Acid was dripping down from somewhere above on one side. Made for some rough climbing.”

“Your report indicated that the three of you successfully reached the first sublevel.”

“That’s where we found what was left of the original maintenance team. They’d been hacked into bloody piles. Did it to each other, from the looks of it. Fingers, teeth, hair - ripped out, scattered around them. One of them had his brain bashed in with his own radio. They were in this little corner, we couldn’t get too close - there was some kind of toxin gathered. We couldn’t see it, but our scanners were screaming so we kept moving.”

 _I have opened the seals_ , Kun had said with Kyp’s voice, his tone uncannily formal. The building had shaken, pipes had burst, leading to chemical reactions, some toxic, but that didn’t account for all the horror. It’d been something deeper. Older.

More evil.

“Toward the second sublevel?”

“Yes. There was smoke, the whole place was choked with it. Could barely see a hand in front of your face - we were going totally off our instruments when Rhan started muttered over the comms.”

“Muttering what, exactly?”

“Nothing at first, just… muttering. I told him to speak up or shut up and he got louder. It was all crazy stuff. How he could smell ‘it’ coming for him. How it smelled like - well, his language got pretty foul. That wasn’t like him,” he hurried to add. “He was a professional, always. Whatever was wrong down there got to him. I don’t know how, but it did. We tried to talk him down, bring him around. Even checked his suit as best we could in the conditions, but everything registered normal. Topat and I were consulting, trying to decide what to do when Rhan just ripped his helmet off. We yelled and lunged for him but he… he put his blaster to his mouth and fried his brain out.”

Luke couldn’t help flinching.

“It was too quick,” the Yinchorri added closing his eyes, “we couldn’t stop him.”

“Only two of you remained, then.”

“Yes, Sir. Topat and I made it to the second sublevel. We found what I think was what remained of the Palace Sec team.”

“You’re not sure?”

“They’d been melted and partially submerged,” he said, bluntly. “In chemical soup from all the broken pipes and something bubbling up out of the floor. I don’t know how that’s possible - the level beneath wasn’t flooded, but I know what I saw - what the scanners said. It was there.”

It was a wonder he’d kept going, Luke couldn’t help thinking. Though the Yinchorri had a strength he was unaware of, Yinchorri as a species had resistance to the Force.

“What did you do, at that point?”

“Topat and I decided we’d better try to recon the situation while we were there - no telling if we’d be able to get back down once we went back up. We wanted to try to make it to the primary maintenance hub. Visibility was still spotty at best, and there wasn’t a straight shot to anything. We were only halfway there when Topat started gagging. He shouldn’t have been able to, not with the mask. I stopped moving, but it was too narrow, I couldn’t turn around, just twist my head over my shoulder. He ripped his mask off. I yelled at him to put it back on but he was coughing, hard, like something was lodged in his throat.”

But resistance to the Force didn’t mean he’d escaped unscathed. Luke could see the haunted quality in his gaze. The images he was describing would no doubt take their toll. Were taking their toll.

“You were not successful in coaxing him to reaffix his mask.”

“No. He was scratching at his face, like there was something on it he had to get off. And then… then he clawed his face off. I did not realize a human could actually do that, but he did. His screams… Rhan - Officer Spince - he used to speak of the Corellian hells. I believe I know now what they sound like. Fourteen years I have served with CSF, and never have I seen the like.” Shaken, he rubbed his chin. “I didn’t stay after that. I crawled through until I could turn around and I went back to report in. I - no one should have to lose their team like that. I had to make sure they didn’t send anyone else.”

“And did they? Send anyone else, after you reported back?”

“I’d only been in Sec HQ for a few minutes when the secondary explosion took down the spire. Making any more attempts became impossible. Primary operations moved out to controlling airspace and preventing the spread of casualties. Nobody went back down.” He finally took a deep breath. “Not until the Jedi showed up.”

* * *

“Senator.” Mara felt a flicker of pride at the steadiness of her voice. Twenty hours into a workday that had been non-stop acrimony and strain, she was maintaining her cool demeanor by sheer force of will - but she _was_ maintaining it. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“Liaison Jade.” Tevv sounded tired. “I apologize for taking so long to receive your calls - I’ve been detained in one meeting after another since early this morning.”

If anyone else said that, she’d have disregarded it as a polite lie, but Klinu had checked - Tevv’s schedule was booked solid. The Smugglers’ Alliance, common information had it, was not his only project to hit some rough waters as of late.

“I won’t waste your time, Senator,” she said, briskly. “You’ve heard about the piece coming out?”

“I have.” Even over voice comm, his frown was obvious. “And it pains me to say this, my dear, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to mitigate the impact it is certain to have on your position.”

“Surely with your influence -”

“My influence,” Tevv interrupted, heavily, “has already been stretched to its limits. I understand that you’ve been ensnared by your own situation, but I’ve been backed into a wall on another of my key projects, as well, and I regret that it has severely dampened my standing amongst my peers, to say nothing of the number of favors I’ve had to call in.” He sighed. “I had hoped that the Clak’dor shipment would have brought Jensaar squarely into the Alliance’s camp – he would have been a powerful ally.”

 _But they dumped the cargo,_ Mara thought, numbly. _Shot our chance at rescue straight out the airlock._

“If there was a way to bring him around -” Tevv sighed again. “But I can think of nothing, now, that would do so. And I’ve nothing else to offer, myself.” His tone gentled. “You have done a marvelous job with the Alliance, my dear, but I believe I may have miscalculated. Rushed into that endeavor too soon.”

“What are you saying, Senator?” Mara can hear the hardness in her voice. Knows it is impolitic.

“The Alliance was an experiment,” Tevv said, simply. “A valuable one, and I maintain that it or its like will be an unavoidably necessary component of the Republic’s future success. But the Republic is little different than any young, immature being.”

There was an absurd sort of fondness in his voice, Mara thought, the bizarreness of it disorienting.

“It will not bend to acknowledge that which is best for it until the pain of sticking to its misguided ideals escalates beyond bearing. Shipping without the Alliance is a thorn in our side – but it is not yet so painful that my colleagues will look beyond the injury it is to their pride to work with the carriers most fit to resolve the problem. It may be that we need to allow the Alliance a graceful death and wait until the political climate has suitably changed to resurrect it.”

They didn’t understand. Tevv. Karrde. You couldn’t bring things back. She knew. She’d taken enough lives – lost the lives she’d built for herself enough times. Some things couldn’t be restored. Revived. C’baoth’s crazed face swam in her memory. Even if you could get things back, more often than not, you ended up wishing you hadn’t.

“I’m not prepared to accept that,” she gritted. “There has to be something – someone -”

Tevv was silent a moment. Pitying her, she thought, bristling. Condescending to her perceived youth and innocence. As if she’d ever had either.

“Try Jensaar,” he said, finally. “I can think of nothing, myself, that will bring him to your fold, but he still holds sufficient clout to turn the tide, I believe. If you can gain his favor, there may still be some slim chance.” 

“Thank you, Senator.” Mara disconnected the call and stared down at her desk, unseeingly.

 _You used to be good at this,_ an ugly, sibilant voice in her head crooned. _You used to be able to convince anyone to do anything for you… at least long enough to complete your mission._

“This isn’t like that.”

“Did you say something, ma’am?”

Mara’s head snapped up. Klinu stood in the doorway, her arms full of datapads, a slightly puzzled expression on her sweet face. Mara dragged herself out of the well of blackness threatening to swallow her.

“Contact Senator Jensaar’s office. I need to speak to him.”

* * *

“If beings are being placed under suicide watch, they should know what truly happened,” Luke told Baruba adamantly. This was to be their weekly debriefing about the hearing process. “It’s not right for them to think that it was their fault. Same thing with Kyp--”

“Mr. Durron’s situation would be considered very different,” Baruba noted. “He is the attacker.”

He stopped his pacing to face Baruba. “Only because the spirit of Exar Kun was guiding him!”

“We cannot predict the effect of disseminating that information. Should Mr. Durron be charged with --”

Baruba’s intercom dinged.

“Councilor Leia Organa-Solo is here,” the assistant’s voice came through the line.

“Excuse me,” Baruba told Luke as he went to his desk. “Please send her in, Tilise.”

Luke held his tongue. Surely, Leia would have to understand. He didn’t think he could be capable of sitting in that room listening to more eyewitnesses and knowing they were taking the blame for the horror at the Palace among themselves.

“Hello,” Leia greeted Baruba, “Luke.”

“Did you see any of today’s statements?” Luke asked her.

A worried look crossed her face. “The Rescue Ops officer was going to continue right?”

“He spoke of people in his team who did,” Luke closed his eyes, willing the image the statement conjured away, “terrible things, and they think it’s their fault.”

“The Sith phantoms,” Leia said quietly.

Luke nodded. “I know we talked about how the public wasn’t ready, but he said some of them are on suicide watch. It’s making a bad situation worse!”

Baruba folded his hands. “I think the situation remains unchanged from when we first broached this.”

“They think they did it, Leia,” he couldn’t help the pleading note in his voice. “As if it’s not bad enough for them to have memories of their friends, comrades dying. They need to know the truth.”

Leia rubbed her forehead.“So we say that Sith possessions exist? That Sith can manipulate the living through the grave?”

“We can’t let them think they’re responsible for this!”

“I know, my worry is that this will incite mass panic.”

“What do you mean? The seals are back in place.”

Leia lifted her head. “For how long? What other places could have had Sith influence? This was bad enough but what if you weren’t around next time? It was your student that caused it, is anyone truly safe? We have to be prepared to answer those questions before we can broach this, Luke.”

Luke felt the words like a blow.

“I think we’re opening ourselves to more trouble,” she said slowly. “I understand where you’re coming from. I wish we could tell everyone, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. It’ll only scare them and put the spotlight fully on you. You’ll have some who won’t want you to go anywhere, and you’ll have others blaming you--”

“Baruba,” Luke gestured towards him, “already thinks they’ll blame me and honestly the way the Municipal Authorities are going about it, it’s only a matter of time. Might as well blame me after having a full picture of what happened.”

“You have to think this through, Luke. We have enough divisiveness being sowed by the Municipal Authorities. No one benefits from the hearings heading in that direction. Not the NR and definitely not the Jedi Order.”

“There is no Jedi Order,” he snapped.

“I keep telling you,” Leia’s voice kept even. “If things go south here, there won’t be.” Her lips formed a grim line. “What do you think is the sensible thing to do if people know only a trained Force user could open the seals?”

Luke inhaled slowly.

“You know as well as I do,” she said quietly. “That the logical thing is to argue there shouldn’t be trained Force users.”

“That’s not right either,” Luke muttered.

“But it’s a persuasive argument. The Palace Incident has touched too many people for this not to be. We have to be careful. People should know -- I don’t think it’s right they don’t, but this is not the time nor place for it. These are delicate matters.”

He hated all of it, Luke decided. There were no simple solutions, only bad and worse. To think that there were beings still blaming themselves...to think Kyp, too, could be holding himself responsible...That kind of guilt could tear anyone apart.

“They might not even believe you, Luke,” Leia added gently.

Luke gave a shake of his head. This had been useless. “I’m going home,” he said. Turning to Baruba, he tipped his head. “Thank you for your advice as usual.”

He exited the office, unsurprised when Leia didn’t follow. She probably wanted Baruba to fill her in on whatever else he deemed important in the day’s hearing. Luke couldn’t imagine thinking about it for longer. He could do nothing about Kyp and now he could do nothing about however many beings thought so-called toxic chemicals had turned them into monsters.

Crossing the plaza in front of the law buildings, he took one of the city walkways to the nearest maglev. His comm vibrated as he waited and he took it out. The message was from Leia.

_Let’s talk later._

He sighed. _I’ll comm you. Need to clear my head a bit._

Before he put the comm away, he scanned down, his eye landing on the last message he’d sent.

_How about a change of scenery? I can get us reservations for the Galatina at 2000 this Benduday. Their plicto steak is amazing and I trust you to pick a wine that makes it even better._

He winced. Had it really been more than a day since he’d sent Mara that message? He’d messaged her before, too, and there’d been nothing -- but she’d come. It could be she just wasn’t into this sort of communication, he told himself. But there was still more than a bit of disquiet prodding at him. Was he being too desperate? A simple yes or no or a request to reschedule didn’t seem like too much to ask. She’d laughed with him, right? Seemed to enjoy herself even when they’d only been having dinner, so why not even a brief response?Or any response, for that matter.

 _Maybe she just wasn’t interested,_ came a disheartening thought.

But then why come over the second time? 

The train swooped in. Luke put his comm away and walked towards the open doors.

* * *

“I did not sign up to have my name smeared across the holonet!” 

“Neither did I,” Mara shot back. “None of us did. We signed up to do a job - a job we won’t have if we don’t keep it together and act like the professionals we are.”

“The New Republic -”

“Doesn’t want this any more than you do,” she cut him off, sternly. “I’ve been on the comm for days with everyone from the Trade Board to the clients to the senators of every planet and sector we pick up from or deliver to. Not one of them likes this.”

“They’re not the ones being targeted!”

“That,” Mara hissed,leaning toward the holo-cam and narrowing her eyes. “Is because they are staying the course.” She gestured roughly. “No one is shoving a holo-cam in their faces because they’re doing exactly what’s expected - repeating the company line, scheduling pickups, paying invoices. We are drawing attention because carriers keep dropping out!”She let irritation bleed into her voice. “Every time a carrier drops out, you add fuel to the fire. Starve it of fuel, the fire goes out.”

THe carrier was silent a long moment, calculating. “I’ll take this run,” he finally hedged. “The article will break while we’re en route. You don’t have it cleaned up by the time my hold is empty, I’m not taking another. Holo-cams show up in my face after, it’s your choobies under the mag-lev.”

“I’ll have the contract in your inbox in four minutes.”

Mara jabbed the comm off and felt her shoulders slump. She’d kept him, but lost two others less easily bullied. The Alliance was covered until morning, but she didn’t know if she’d have enough carriers to take all the requests she anticipated by noon. There was no way to know anything. To count on anything. It was like the ground was turning to quicksand beneath her feet.

Skywalker’s last text swam in her mind’s eye. Reaching for the contract she needed to send out she glanced at the clock. It was surprisingly earlier than it felt, but Luke would almost certainly be back to his apartment by now. She punched in comm codes with renewed determination. Maybe it was time to find out if that key he’d sent actually worked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bits here that I obviously intended to clean up but never did (names, etc.).  
> More importantly, we're back to smut next chapter!


	12. Ch 11

The more he thought about today’s Hearing statements the more they unsettled him.

_She’s still on suicide watch, last I heard._

He understood Leia’s point. The rational, distant part of him knew there’d be nothing good to come out of telling everyone that Sith ghosts existed and that under very specific circumstances they were dangerous. Some wouldn’t believe him. Others would be terrified -- all the more so after the stories circulating about the Palace incident.

He couldn’t guarantee their safety.

That was the larger point, wasn’t it? That all of this would circle around to holding him responsible and he...he was, wasn’t he? He should have known that Kyp was susceptible, somehow kept a close watch over him.But he’d felt nothing at Yavin until it was too late.

A presence in his apartment jarred him from his thoughts, recognition flitting in seconds after at the familiarity. _Mara._ She was here? His spirits lifted at the unexpected surprise.

But wait -- _here_? He had sent her a key and she had responded...with tea, but not much else. Not to the invitations he’d made. Twice.

Luke paused before keying in his code. Maybe she was just that busy. He could think of several times where he barely had time to think between crises.

And yet, she’d had enough time to send the tea, so why not simply answer? Was it the hearing? The media?

Keying in his code, he walked into his apartment and dropped his bag.

Mara was sitting at his table on her datapad, one of his mugs beside it. She was dressed in one of those conservative dresses, her hair in the usual neat updo. She lifted her head as he walked in.

“I’m glad you put the tea somewhere easy to find,” she said, a bit of wariness in her sense. Less than last time, he thought.

“Why are you here?” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

She blinked, dismay leaking through, but didn’t look away. “You gave me a concubine key. I wanted to see if it worked.”

“A concubine key?” He leaned back against his counter.

“Yeah -- that’s what they’re called. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t know the name would be that...direct.”

She gave him a half-smile. “It’s efficient.”

“And,” Luke tilted his head, considering. He wanted to ask her why she didn’t answer his messages. Would that spook her off? “You like efficiency.”

Her smile wavered a bit. “I'm finding it rare these days.” She waved a hand. “All the bureaucracy.”

She pushed her chair back and stood, approaching him. “I didn't come here to talk about that.”

No, he was sure she hadn't come to talk at all. But this close, her eyes glimmering coy overtures, he found himself leaning forward to kiss her. There was some familiarity to the way she fit against him now, the tease of her kiss, a promise of more.

He cupped her face and gave himself over to the moment, turning the kiss from a tease to demand, sliding his hands into her hair, mindless of her pins. She made a soft noise of protest, breaking the kiss, a bit out of breath. On impulse, he pulled her back, regardless of her resistance. Just as he was about to release her, the resistance melted away, her kiss as consuming as his.

_Some people want a firm hand,_ she’d said. _Need it._ This was what she’d come for, and right now to oblige was easier than the alternative. Maybe he needed that too, he thought, pulling her with him, still kissing her, into the living room. He broke the kiss long enough to yank her the extra steps to his bedroom, and Mara's only protest was her hands pulling him down for another kiss. He hauled across his bedroom and onto his bed, their kisses a crash of lips and teeth, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He nipped at her neck, feeling her body tense, her ensuing gasp. “You haven’t been good, have you?”

She shuddered, the words hitting their mark. _Like last time_ , Luke thought, scooting down to reach under her dress. He pulled it over her hips then her shoulders before pressing her back down on the bed.

“I-- oh--” She broke off with a moan as he pushed off the undergarments to lick across her breast.

“No, you haven’t,” he found himself whispering. He shifted off to her shoulders, desperation sharp in him as he sucked kisses on her neck and drew back. So much time wondering if she’d come back...

“Luke.” Her tone was borderline stricken, surprise stark when she looked up at him. He’d only gone to reach for the folded sash at his bureau and slid back over her as she said his name.

He overrode the pause that threatened. Hesitancy clearly didn’t work for her. “Hands above your head.”

Her stunning eyes held a bit of reserve, but Mara complied and he tied the sash around her wrists.

“Very good.” He dropped kisses along the underside of her arm, his mouth roving back down to her breasts, feeling fevered by the sounds leaving her, hips working against her as he focused on the heat and taste of her skin. He shifted slightly to trail a hand between her legs, over her damp underwear.

“You know how you look right now in my bed, with your clothing half on, your messy hair and your wet underwear?”

Mara made a low sound from the back of her throat and he rubbed his fingers along the thin sodden cloth, watching as her hips flexed trying to get more friction.

“You look _needy_.” He punctuated the statement with a sucking kiss under her ear, her moan loud enough to make his own hips move restlessly against her, ignoring the harsh graze of fabric.“You need me? Like this.”

He didn’t expect her quick “yes” or the “please” that followed it, startling enough that he let out a breathless laugh. It had been like that last time, hadn’t it?

But this wasn’t then. The thought curled through him, an idea occurring. He found the presence of mind to draw away entirely from her and was rewarded with another pleading, “Luke.”

Luke ignored the call and his own pulsing arousal as he grabbed another sash from his drawer. Mara sat up, bringing her hands down her lap, eyes wide and dark.

He stopped. It was, he thought, a little ludicrous to pretend to be unaffected when your own body blatantly put it to lie, but it was the performance, wasn’t it? So he leaned back against his bureau, sash in hand. Feigned aloofness as he scolded, “I didn’t say you could sit up. You seem to need specific instruction.”

Mara made a slight movement that could have been a flinch. 

He shoved the sash at her. “Tie it around your eyes.”

He expected her to challenge him but she didn’t. Her arm lifted towards him, her hand closing on the sash. She spread the fabric and between both her hands tied it over her eyes.

“Lie back,” he ordered, getting rid of his clothes. “Hands over your head.”

She did as he ordered and for a second he stared at her -- her disheveled hair, her brassiere askew -- without registering he’d approached close enough that his leg touched her knee. Just that touch felt electrifying. He slid a hand over her thigh and she parted her legs with a sharp inhale.

“Good girl,” he breathed, rewarding her with the drift of his fingertips up her inner thigh, feeling her shudder. This between them was so easy, but when she wasn’t in his bed...

“You’re not always this good.” His fingers passed over the seam of her thigh. He felt her moan skitter up his spine and arranged himself above her, nuzzling the soft skin of her midriff, her back bowing.

“I-I can be,” she whispered.

Luke moaned as her hips twitched against him, pulling a sloppy thrust from him. “Can you?” he trailed a caress from her throat to her belly, his breathing harsh, his cock dragging wetly against her thigh. “Or do I have to make you?”

Her moan pitched higher as his hips shoved up against her thigh,his hands in her hair, mouth against her neck. He grunted at the friction and she slid one of her legs up and around him to get some friction for herself, her breath growing shakier as she did.

It felt desperate and sweaty, him pressing against her thigh, her pressing against his, his mouth against her neck, his arms clasping her sides.

She was trembling, like last time. “Luke. Luke. Fuck me. Just...please. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”

It crystallized then that he wanted her like this, that he wasn't above punitive gestures. She was straining for her release, wanted it, and he could just...deny her. His head swam with the knowledge as his orgasm hit, as he let it, and he came slippery against her thigh, chest heaving against hers, a moan against her neck. He made himself move away, leaving her gasping, a pained cry of disappointment lifting from her.

He reached for the sash at her wrists, clumsily undoing the tie.

“Make yourself come,” he panted, sliding off her, threading his fingers through the elastic of her underwear to pull it down past his mess dripping down her thigh. She was visibly wet and memories of the first night seeped into him, drowning in the smell and taste of her. It would be so easy to simply bend down and have her wailing his name. But that wasn’t the idea that came to him.

The idea that came to him was about punishment.

“I want to see you.” He tapped on her knees. “Up.”

“Luke.” It sounded like a vague protest, but that was par for the course.

“Slow.”

She thrust her fingers in and pushed up her hips, he noted, avoiding his come. He thought of her folding her clothing. Repinning her hair. She was fastidious, wasn’t she?

“Spread your legs more.”

Mara complied, darting a firm touch, barely a tease from where he was sitting, but pulled her hand away.

“More,” he snapped. “Or maybe you don’t want to come at all,” he said slowly, letting disappointment inch into it. “This enough for you? I thought you were going to be good.”

A soft sound fell from her lips.

“You don’t want this.” He stretched out towards her. It felt like...embarrassment.

Mara bit her lip, gave a shake of her head.

“Why? I want to watch you. You look beautiful when you come.” He drifted a hand to her thigh, smearing his come across it. He expected her to pull away out of fastidiousness but she arched against the touch with a shaky breath. “And you want me to touch you.” To reward her, Luke slid his fingers to her folds, stroking lightly. “Make you come. So you earn it.” He pulled his hand away. “I said I wanted to see you. Don’t make me say it again.”

Mara gulped a breath and spread her legs, again trailing her hand between her legs. He watched as she traced her folds, swooped her finger across her clit.

“That’s it,” he whispered as her fingers moved, falling into a circling motion then pausing to touch elsewhere before returning, all of her red and straining. He wanted to touch her but opted against it, unsure if it would be a distraction -- and, he reminded himself, he had said he wouldn’t. Her breath came in erratic bursts for a while and then her tension inexplicably leveled. 

“I’m sorry. I-I can’t,” she finally said, after a long moment of stillness, her chagrin and distress obvious.

_Mistake_ , he thought.He hadn’t known this wouldn’t work, he didn’t know enough about this, and he stammered, “It’s oka--”

“I’d uh,” she cleared her throat over him, “I’d like to use your ‘fresher.”

That was as clear a signal as any and Luke darted forward to undo her blindfold. It was a ridiculous thing to do, he thought a second later. Her hands were free, she could have done it herself. But she summoned a small smile for him when he slipped it off that made his chest squeeze as she said, “Thanks.”

It didn’t feel angry as much as it did unsure, and Luke lowered his head, brushing his lips against her damp temple before he could overthink it, then pulled back quickly. This didn’t turn out how he’d expected; he’d miscalculated.

He only hoped he’d have a chance to make it up to her, that she wouldn’t run off.

“Hey,” he began tentatively, “I’m so--”

“You don’t have to cook anything this time.” He watched her walk to the ‘fresher with a plunging dread. Her next statement halted the freefall of his stomach. “I can order for us.”

Luke felt himself smile, caught in the whiplash of feeling. She didn’t sound or feel angry. Mara had stopped, looking inquiringly over her shoulder. She seemed...faintly dismayed still, but Luke couldn’t place why. He wanted to ask, but the change of subject itself seemed like a cue. Maybe he’d do better to follow it and ask later.

“Did it take _that_ long last time?” he teased. “Or did you just bring an appetite that you can’t wait?” He would definitely make it up to her later, he decided. No matter what.

“If you want to, fine. I’m just giving you options,” she called before she closed the ‘fresher door, a teasing lilt to her voice.

* * *

“I commed Solsol.”

Luke was waiting when she emerged from the bedroom, her clothing and hair righted, skin pink from where she’d cleaned up. He held out his robe, and Mara allowed him to envelope her in it, something knotting in her stomach at the way he snugged the belt carefully around her waist. He was so attentive, and she’d disappointed him – he’d asked for a simple show and she hadn’t even been able to give it. Useless.

“I thought maybe you could pick us a wine,” he continued, one hand finding the small of her back through the voluminous, fluffy garment and guiding her unerringly toward the kitchen. “I still haven’t gotten the hang of how pairings work.” He waved her toward the conservator. “I got the savory seafood sampler, if it matters.”

He seemed… content, despite the letdown of her performance, and her concerns eased a little. It wasn’t even that she hadn’t wanted to or that she hadn’t been turned on, it was just the awareness of the stickiness in her thigh. With just her fingers she hadn’t been able to get past it.

“It does.” She pushed a few neatly sealed packages of fresh produce and pre-cubed meat out the way to survey his meager supply of wines, feeling instantly at ease. Wine she knew. “With something spicy like that you want a smooth, rich emerald,” she explained, pulling something that looked suitable and carrying it to the counter in front of the glassware rack. “If you’d gone for something sweet, we’d have needed something drier to cut it.” 

“I keep telling myself I’ll take a class,” he leaned against the counter, watching her with open approval as she uncorked the bottle and poured for them both. “I almost did, too. But then…” his lips curved down, moodily, and he lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I had to cancel a lot of plans when I got Kyp.”

Glass in hand, Mara followed him back into his lounge. Luke dropped onto one end of his sofa, and she settled on the other - the same places they’d taken that first night, she noticed. She evaluated his mood as she sipped her wine, rolling the liquid in her mouth out of habit, letting the flavor coat her tongue before she swallowed.

“Guess it’s a good thing I never had time to sign on myself.” She flashed him a calculatedly relaxed half-smile, hoping to nudge him away from dark thoughts. “I’d hate to feel responsible for keeping you locked in that embarrassing Outer Rim ignorance about basic social graces.”

His lips quirked and Luke shot her an amused glance. Satisfaction slid through her, warm and unreasonably bright. Force, it wasn’t right for a man to have lashes that long. It was sinful, that playful cast they gave his eyes when he cocked his head at her.

His expression slid toward a familiar open curiosity.

“Did you want to train as a Jedi?” he asked. “Before, I mean. After Wayland. Before Karrde and I hijacked you into running the Alliance?”

Mara raised a pointed eyebrow. “You mean while I was soaking in bacta for electric burns and calcified bones? Or in the ten standard minutes I had out of the medcenter before said hijacking?”

Luke chuckled softly. “Point taken. We did kind of foist that on you quickly.”

They’d thought she could do it. Mara’s stomach twisted. He’d thought she could. Had faith in her. When he found out she was botching it —

“I worried for a while,” Luke admitted. “That I’d given you the wrong impression. When I gave you the lightsaber. You remember.”

“No, it just blended in with all the other memories of people I’ve threatened to kill handing me their fathers’ lightsabers.” She pursed her lips at him, pointedly.

Luke stuck his foot out, bumping her knee in jovial retort, then adjusted his position, scooting down on the sofa so he was lounging against the arm, facing her, his expression open and interested over his bent knees, wine glass cradled against his chest. The casual comfortableness of it made her chest tighten. She’d done nothing to earn this. Wouldn’t get to keep it. When he learned -- when the hearing was over and he got his regular life back --

“I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.” He gave a self-deprecating shoulder hitch and ducked his head a little.

Impulsively, ridiculously, it made her want to brush her fingers through the lock of sandy hair that fell across his forehead.

“Make you feel like I expected you to train.” He lifted his head, eyes intent. “I didn’t. Expect anything. I understood why you might not want to. I just thought...” he trailed off.

“Thought I might like to have a lightsaber in case another mad Jedi showed up and tried to claim me for his ‘dynasty’?” she suggested. “Thought I might want to be able to cut things when there aren’t any plasma cutters around?” She gestured toward her face. “That it went well with my eyes? Spit it out, Skywalker.”

“Luke.” He was sitting up, suddenly, wine clinking onto the end table, and then he was crawling across the couch toward her.

Mara sucked in a breath as his hand slid under the robe, stroked up her leg as he leaned in close, his breath warm across her cheek. “Luke.”

He smiled, turning his head to ghost a kiss across her jaw. The door buzzer went off, loud and demanding. Mara’s heart fell as he jerked away with a soft oath.

“They won’t see you if you stay here,” he said over his shoulder, rolling to his feet and padding toward the door.

It shouldn’t have hurt. That was what she wanted - quiet. Discrete. But - _no_. Mara swallowed the sting, refusing to look at whatever irrational place it originated from. Took a deliberate sip of her wine as Skywalker collected the takeout from the delivery droid and relocked the door. As soon as the door was re-shut, she rose, grabbing Luke’s wine along with her own as she headed for the kitchen.

“We can eat out here.”

“We can also eat at the table like civilized beings.” She sent him a warning glare. Either her glares were losing their touch or he lacked the presence of mind to recognize a warning when he saw one, because he smiled cheekily.

“Whatever you say, Jade.”

Outer Rim. Rebels. Jedi. Mara didn’t know which to blame his lack of manners and self-preservation on, but she shook her head and made a point of retrieving both utensils and napkins while Luke unpacked dinner and served them both.

“Now,” he said, when they sat down and dug in. “I think,” he paused, looking at her again in the intense, sincere way that did funny things to her insides, “that you were supposed to be telling me if you’d wanted to be a Jedi.” Anxiety crept across his expression. “Or if I gave you the wrong impression. With the lightsaber.”

Mara finished chewing her shrimp and swallowed. “I didn’t get the wrong impression,” she said, firmly, taking a sip of her wine. “I thought…” That he cared. That he was proud of her. That she deserved better than what the Emperor and C’baoth had offered her. It all sounded trite and sentimental when she put words to it. “…that you wanted me to have it.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s all.”

“That’s good.” Luke visibly relaxed. “I’m glad. I did – I do. Want you to have it. Just… because.”

“As for training,” she continued before he could lose himself in trying to voice the same things she’d decided not to say. “I wasn’t interested in being a Jedi. You forget, I know more about Jedi than most.” She shook her head. “I’m not taken in by all those stories of endless power. It’s perfectly clear that the Force doesn’t do most of what people actually need.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke attempted to stifle a smile and failed badly.

She nodded, mock seriously. “Think about it, Skyw- Luke. What do Jedi even do? Mind control?” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “Messy. A good bribe will work twice as well twice as fast most of the time.”

“Lando would agree with you there.” Amused, Luke stabbed another sushi roll.

“He’d agree with me it does nothing for your wardrobe or ability to keep a schedule, either.”

Skywalker snorted. “Now you’re channeling Leia.”

Pleased by his good mood, Mara began ticking items off on her fingers. “It doesn’t keep you from getting eaten by rancors or whatever that thing was Solo said tried to eat you on Hoth.”

“He told you about the wampa?” He leaned over his bowl, apparently equally parts surprised and intrigued.

“On Wayland. One of the stories he told while we were hiking. He treated me like I had a head wound — talking, trying to keep me engaged, so I wouldn’t pass out on him, remember?” 

“It’s a little hazy,” he admitted, slowly. “Mostly I remember being worried. You were what got me out of C’baoth’s clutches in the first time, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to return the favor.” 

“So you’re saying the Force isn’t great at reassurance, either,” she goaded. “Proving my point. I’d be better off getting a few well-programmed serving droids than relying on the Force. So not being a Jedi? Actually more perks, fewer drawbacks.”

He laughed but then fell serious. Mara felt dread creep in under her contentment as she waited for him to pick his words for whatever he intended next.

“Is that why you don’t answer my texts? Because I’ve got more drawbacks than perks?”

* * *

Luke regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. Mara’s fingers tightened on her wine glass stem and she very deliberately pulled it away from her mouth and set it carefully on the table.

“It’s okay if you think so,” he said, quickly. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. I just wondered, is all.”

From the way she folded the edge of the robe a little closer against her chest and pushed her plate away, it was absolutely the wrong thing to say. His heart rate picked up as her shoulders curled in slightly.

“Luke…” she seemed to cast around for words.

The wariness was back in her sense in full force, something else inky and cold swirling through it. The desire to drive it away from her was so visceral it was almost a physical itch prickling along his skin.

“Most,” he added quickly. “I think most people would agree--”

“I’m not,” she interrupted, her expression torn, “ -- you said you wouldn’t misunderstand. I don’t do this. With anyone. I’m not… good at it.”

This...a relationship?

“I like what we do,” she added. “Us together. Like this. Like just now. The...dating thing. It’s not that…” She made a face. “I…” 

And there it was. The opening he needed to fix everything. 

Her inability to cuddle had been a clue, but he hadn’t realized just how inexperienced at relationships she was.

_I don’t do this. With anyone._

That was all right. He could bridge the gap. Be what she needed now and show her the pathway to more. She wasn’t reluctant like he’d thought. Just lost in how to respond. That was uncertain for her in a way what they did in bed wasn’t. That was play. A relationship wasn’t.

She was looking down. “I’m sorry.” After a moment she lifted her eyes to him. “I could make it up to you.”

It was like clockwork, he thought, now that he could identify it -- her moving the conversation into more familiar waters. The game. Soothing for her in a way, he supposed.

“Can you?” He purposely pitched the inflection of his voice colder, straight into unmistakably stern territory. “You didn’t come for me earlier, either.”

Her eyes widened a bit.

“I think you just can’t be good on your own at all. You need me to make you be good.”

“Luke…”

Her voice was low and there was something plaintive in it that he wanted to answer – would answer, just the way she needed. Confidence and satisfaction poured through him. He could give her what she was looking for – what she needed. This game between them wasn’t even hard. The only thing that led him astray here was hesitation. And he could build trust this way. Wasn’t that where this was headed?

“Go to the bedroom,” he ordered. “Take everything off.”

She didn’t hesitate, pushing up out of her chair, her hands reaching for the belt even as she hurried out. Luke’s body throbbed with anticipation as he swept the table clean, depositing everything in the sink for later. She would open up in her own time, but for now they could keep the game.

Joy bubbled up as he stalked toward the bedroom and he stowed it away to savor deeply later, his uncertainties melting away. For now, he needed focus, strictness. A firm hand.

Mara sat on the edge of the bed, knees together, hands fisted in her lap. Her bra and panties were neatly folded atop the bureau with her dress, his clothes, and the sashes he’d used before. Luke kicked off his pants as soon as he stepped through the door and strode directly toward her.

“On your knees.”

Her eyes widened slightly but she slid unresistingly to the floor, her hands coming tentatively to the sides of his thighs as he stopped directly in front of her. Her eyes lifted to his as his half-hard cock bobbed in front of her face. Cupping her jaw in one hand, Luke led her mouth to him.

She didn’t need any further instructions, sucking him into her warm mouth eagerly. Her eyes fell half closed as she applied herself, her fingers kneading at the tight muscles of his legs as she licked and sucked.

Satisfied, Luke slid his hand back toward her hair. Locating a single pin, he plucked it from her hair. Mara made a low noise of protest. He tossed the pin toward the bedside table and pulled another. Then a third. One by one while she sucked him to full hardness, he dismantled her fastidious updo, spilling fiery waves over her shoulders and running his fingers through the soft tresses.

She nuzzled into him, welcoming the touch, and Luke allowed himself a small smile. Putting his hand back to her cheek, he pulled out, tilting her head back to look at him. With his other hand, he called a sash from the dresser.

“Get on the bed, and put this over your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to correct all my tenses so they matched, but I might have missed a few. 
> 
> Also, our faves continue to provide prime examples of why d/s bedroom play requires research and communication *beforehand* in order to actually work well.... 😑🙄


	13. Ch 12

Mara pushed up and slid back onto the bed, scooting into the center. Reluctantly, she accepted the blindfold, pulling her hair back over her shoulders before wrapping the fabric around her head and knotting it securely.

“Lay down.”

Skywalker’s voice was strong. Demanding. Heat pooled low in her belly. She complied, turning her head in his direction, her fingers worrying at the soft sheets as she waited for the next instruction. There was movement, the rustle of fabric. Anxiety threaded through her. Was he going to make her touch herself again? Demand that she make up for failing earlier?

His hand was warm at her wrist, the steady certainty of the touch unexpectedly soothing. She could have come before if he'd just touched her. Those hadn't been his instructions though. He lifted her arm over her head, changed his position. Mara felt his knees sink into the bed on either side of her ribs as he straddled her, felt the heat of him as he leaned over, both his hands drawing hers up. She tensed as he wound fabric – the second sash again, no doubt – around her wrists and secured them somehow.

“No.” The word escaped before she'd thought it through and she sucked in a breath, shame flooding her with heat. Was she trying to fail? This was – it was nothing. Just – he was just playing with her. And she'd managed to keep her earlier reservations to herself about it the first time. It was fine now, too. It was.

“No?” Luke sounded amused, his weight shifting as he sat back. He stroked one hand lazily down her arm, down her throat.

Mara’s heart pounded, her entire body feeling electrically charged as his fingertips trailed across her chest and down to the peaked tip of a breast. He rubbed one callused thumb across the pearling nipple. Mara cursed herself for the pitiful whimper that escaped, the involuntary shift of her hips. He'd done nearly nothing to her.

“You don’t like it?” He scooted back.

“N-no,” she summoned enough anger at herself to blurt out. “I don’t -” She gasped at the rough, wet lave of his tongue across her other breast. Why couldn't it be like last time with her arms around him?

“Liar.”

Under the blackness of the blindfold, Mara shut her eyes tightly, biting her lip as Luke closed his mouth around the stiffened tip and sucked, hard. He pinched the other nipple sharply before kneading that breast in confident, possessive strokes.

His free hand darted down, brushed between her legs. “It feels like you do.”

She did...and didn't. It was hard to pin down. She should say something – was going to, but he pushed two fingers roughly inside her and the hypothetical words were lost to a moan.

“Mmm.” Luke pressed a line of kisses between her breasts, then took her other nipple in his mouth, teasing and nipping. “You’re so wet, Jade.”

She was. It was mortifying, the easy way his fingers pumped in and out of her, her body already slick and welcoming. Desperate. She shouldn't be this desperate. She should manage this. Herself.

He moved again and her damp breasts felt cold, abandoned without the heat of his fingers and mouth. The heat relocated as he settled between her legs, his body forcing her thighs apart as he mouthed wet kisses down her stomach.

“So needy.”

Her gut clenched. She was, wasn’t she? No.

His mouth dipped lower, the coarse pad of his tongue swiping at the juncture of her thighs, just above his still pumping fingers. Oh, was he -- Mara wrenched, trying to snap her legs shut, to twist away.

“No!” 

Luke dropped his weight across her right thigh and hip, pinning her. “You don’t want that. My mouth on you, there.” He sounded intrigued.

“No.” Mara tried to sound determined, forceful, but he twisted his fingers inside her, rubbing just right to make her whole body shudder. He could keep doing that. That was fine, but the rest...

“Why?” He did it again. “You think it’s dirty? You didn’t mind your mouth on me. Or is just because you’re wet?” His voice had gone low and the knot was back in Mara’s gut. “You don’t want me to see how much you like this.”

“I – I don’t. Want it,” she gasped. She didn't. She was too exposed like this. It felt...she couldn't quantify or explain, especially now. There were acceptable things and…not. The first time had been bizarre enough, but at least she'd been on her stomach, not spread out. “Not – not like this.”

Without warning, he added a third finger, thrusting them in hard enough to make her yelp. “I don’t care what you want. This is about what I want, remember? You didn’t give me what I wanted earlier, so now I’m going to have to take it. But you like it that way, don’t you?”

“Luke -” His name was a whine and Mara broke off in a cry as he licked at her again, harder this time, his tongue delving into her folds, sucking just a second at her clit, enough that she felt her mouth form an ‘o’, her mind blanking.

“-- keep telling me you want to be good, Mara,” she registered him saying after. “This is what being good looks like." Luke lowered his mouth to her thigh, scraped his teeth against the hypersensitive skin there. “Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me you want to be good.”

“I do,” she babbled, sucking in another breath as he licked up her thigh, making her entire body shiver again. She did. That had never been the question, had it? “I do want to be good. I do.” But – but not like this. It was... _embarrassing_ , her mind supplied. Not...neat. He... he was seeing too much.

She pulled against the ties, panic skittering along her spine at the immobility, the way her thoughts refused to organize.

“I’ll touch myself,” she blurted, skin aflame at the shame of it. She'd fake it if she had to. She was a great actress. “Like – like you wanted earlier. I’ll make it so good, Luke, please. Or – or you can fuck me. Any way you want. Please, please – I want you to.”

“No.”

The word had the grim weight of finality to it, an icy immutability that redoubled the panic clawing at her. Then he wasn’t touching her at all – his fingers ripped from her, the air around her hanging stark and empty for a horrible, terrifying moment. That was worse.

Worse than anything.

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

There was a sound, a door opening, rummaging, something she couldn’t identify. Blood pounded in her ears. It was beyond mortifying.

“Luke -”

His name came out desperate, but she didn't get any farther because suddenly there was nothing to say. He was going to let her out of the bindings and ask her to go, and why wouldn't he? She’d failed again. Of course he was finished with her – of course he was done. She couldn’t even return a text comm, couldn't give him what he wanted, and now -

His hand closed around her ankle, making her jerk wildly. There was metal of some kind, cold against the bare sole of her foot, fabric winding around her ankle, her heel, her toes. What was - He grabbed her other ankle, tugged hard, pulling her legs apart. The metal again, fabric.

“What -”

Then his mouth was on hers, devouring her, and all Mara could think was, _he isn’t done with me_. Her eyes stung, absurdly, as relief rushed in and, for the first time, she was grateful for the blindfold. It was pathetic. _She_ was pathetic.

She was also more turned on than she'd ever been in her life.

Nothing made sense.

“Three times,” he panted harshly when he pulled away from her.

The words didn’t make any sense. Mara’s head was spinning, but fine. He could do anything. As long as he touched her. As long as he didn't stop.

“I’m going to punish you.” He slid back down her body, every muscle taut as she fixated on his position, his touch. “By making you come three times. One,” he dropped a kiss on the jut of her left hip bone. “For making me worry by not returning any of my comms. Two,” he nipped a kiss atop her other hip bone. “For not coming for me earlier. And three,” he pushed a single finger inside her, making her body clench again. “For saying no to me just now. And you are going to ask me to, like a good girl.” 

* * *

“Please...” Mara licked her lips, flexed her hips, her chest rising and falling in gulping breaths. The words were breathless, pained. “Punish me. Please.”

For a moment, Luke simply stared at her. Her flushed, damp skin. The way she twisted in the bonds, sinuous and wanting. It had been a long time since he’d tied up a lover, and even then it hadn’t been like this. It had been light, a joke between them.

This wasn’t light at all.

“I’ll… be good.”

Mara’s tentative voice brought him back, made him painfully aware of his twitching cock, the lock of her body around his finger, the cold of the San-ni staff he’d used as an improvised spreader bar against his shin. _A spreader bar_. Luke almost lost himself again to the lunacy of that – that he’d thought of it, actually done it – but Mara shivered and he was suddenly bending forward, pushing another finger into her tight heat and swiping the flat of his tongue against her folds. She'd wanted this, she'd come for this -- to be pushed and given no quarter.

She cried out, tried to jerk away again, but Luke stretched out comfortably, his legs pinning the staff – and thus her legs – in place, immobilizing her. Working his fingers rhythmically, he set about learning Mara the way he wanted to, tracing every inch of her most private places with his tongue, memorizing the taste and feel of her. The tense of her thighs, the rock of her hips, the plaintive mewls she made as he lightened and intensified the pressure, changed the angle of his mouth or tongue.

Her first orgasm took him by surprise, both for its suddenness and its volatility. Though that was becoming a pattern, he thought. The more resistance, the harder she came. This time she seized up with a shout, flooding his tongue with sweetness and yanking hard against the bonds. Luke happily lapped up the offering but quickly eased up when she tried to squirm away. 

Too sensitive, he thought, trailing his mouth down to her thigh. That was all right. There were other ways to build her arousal back up. Instead of thrusting with his fingers, he twisted his hand, curved his fingers up. It took a little exploring but her barked curse told him exactly when he’d found what he was looking for.

And of course there was protest lodged in her breathless, “Luke -”

“This one won’t be so easy,” he cut her off. “Have you ever been edged, Mara?”

He wasn’t sure if her sharp intake of breath was a yes or a no, but the trembling muscles of her straining thighs and the slickness trickling down his palm told him everything he needed to know about her thoughts on the subject.

He set a torturously slow pace with his fingers, stroking over exactly the right spot inside her but keeping a hawkish eye on her body, her breathing. Too slow, too light – he varied, keeping her off balance and on edge, never quite there.

“Luke. Luke _please_.” Mara writhed against the restraints, angling for leverage.

He hooked a foot against the spreader bar and shoved it down, yanking her back to fully taut, denying her anything but submission to this. She struggled, making inarticulate noises and he had to ease the movement of his fingers. She was too close.

“What do you want?”

“To come,” she gasped as he went for slow, even thrusts of his fingers. “Please. Make me.” Her muscles strained as she grunted, trying for movement against the unyielding bar. “Please. Please. Please.” She tossed her head, her hair a mass plastered to her forehead.

“You’ll keep still?” he asked knowing she wouldn’t.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed.

He withdrew his fingers, smiling when she groaned low, ran his fingers over the top of her trembling thighs, then ghosted them down her folds. Mara made a sound at the back of her throat before her hips twitched. He summarily shoved the bar down, arresting her motion, his fingers shoving in roughly. She cried out, squirming, writhing against the restraints.

He drew his fingers away. 

“Please, please,” she whispered through reddened lips, forcing herself to slacken. “I need it. I need it.”

He nuzzled her midriff, his hand inching down between her legs, fingers drifting over her entrance, gliding over her slick. He lightened up on the pressure on the bar. “Need what?”

“To come,” her breathing hitched as he slid one finger in, “Make me come.” He tried a shallow thrust, tried another. “Please.”

Carefully, he slid his thumb up to stroke -- once -- off the side of her clit, Mara tensed again, canting her hips for more friction.

He shoved the bar down. “No. You asked to be punished, Mara. Now you’ll take it.”

She jerked again at the words, her body bucking against the fingers buried inside her before he could adjust, pull them away - and then she was wailing, her back arching, bound heels digging into the bed as she broke.

 _Fuck._ He was leaking a mess all over his thigh just watching her. Luke pulled his fingers from her body, gripping the sheets in both fists against the urge to push himself inside her, fuck her senseless. But he’d promised he wouldn’t. She needed this, he reminded himself. Needed him to set and keep rules for them, here. Needed this part of things between them to be steady and good where everything else was murky water for her. He still didn’t understand why she needed him to push so hard to let herself enjoy this, but he didn’t have to. Not really.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, stretching up to suckle at her breasts again while she came down, her chest heaving with her panted breaths. She tasted of salt and he took his time, teasing her nipples to aching hardness before biting at them gently.

“One more to go,” he reminded her, drifting kisses back down.

“No more,” her words were little more than a breath. “Please – I’ll text you back. I won’t –” she squawked when Luke slapped the flat of his hand against her hip.

“You’ll give me a third, like I want,” he said, roughly. “Or I’ll take it.” 

The sound she made was more a sob than a breath but Luke didn’t pause – couldn’t. She needed him to push. He would.

He didn’t push his fingers back inside her, choosing instead to stroke her this time, the heel of his hand against the inside of her thigh, his thumb slowly rubbing off-center from her tortured, swollen nub.

“Luke - Luke, don’t want to. Don’t. Can’t. _Oh._ ”

“Obviously, you do.” Settling back in between her legs, he started lazily kissing her thighs. “And you can.”

“Please. Can’t. Can’t.”

“Hmmm.” Luke penalized that plea by darting his tongue inside her, drawing a cry. “You will give me what I want, Mara.”

She gave a hiccupping breath as he circled his thumb around her clit, shuddering hard. Luke kissed down her thigh again, wondering if he was pushing too hard. He nibbled at her thigh as he weighed her obvious pleasure against the reality that she had to be past over-sensitivity. He'd have to build her up. This would take a while. That was fine.

He'd been content to enjoy the feel of her skin against his lips but his eyes flicked toward her face when Mara moaned, low and sensual. Wait. He placed another sucking kiss on her thigh. Her back bowed.

“Oh,” he murmured, “you liked that.”

He did it again, biting more purposefully this time, sucking a little. The sound she rewarded him with went straight to his cock, hard enough to be painfully uncomfortable.

“You want more of that, Mara?” He could do nothing about the roughness of his voice, but kept his thumb to a slow, intentional circuit around her clit, even as his fingers thrust steadily inside her. “You want me to mark you up?”

She didn't respond and he stopped. “Mara.”

“Yes.”

The word sounded like it had been ripped unwilling from her throat, and Luke rewarded it by sucking a hard, bruising kiss into the flesh of her thigh a handbreadth from where he rubbed her. Mara shrieked, bucking against the bonds, against his touch. He pressed her back down, locking her in as he repeated the movement, systematically covering her inner thighs with love marks that would surely bruise by morning.

She was sobbing, keening, when he granted her release, pressing his thumb just so and lifting his head to watch her shatter.

His body protested when he finally pushed to all fours and crawled back to untangle her feet. She was limp as a rag, chest heaving quietly, when he climbed back up the bed and unbound her hands. She made no attempt to move, and he gently slipped a finger under the blindfold to draw it off of her. Her eyes were red when he pulled the fabric away, her temples damp with what might have been tears. With the sheen of sweat that covered her whole body, though, it was impossible to tell for sure.

She looked... fragile, that way. Luke wanted to offer… something, but he wasn’t sure how much she’d accept. He decided to start with something that should be safe.

“I knew you could be good.”

Mara made a sound, soft and deep, that he thought might have been relief or contentment. Then she closed her eyes, exhaustion settling around her like a fog. Unable to help himself, Luke smiled. Forcing himself to rise, he did a brief circuit of the apartment, shutting everything down and turning off the lights. Then he crawled back into bed. Mara lay where he’d left her, a flicker of consciousness stirring when he slid close.

Experimentally, Luke inched himself closer. She neither moved nor protested. Emboldened, Luke draped an arm over her midriff and rested his forehead against her shoulder. To his immense satisfaction, Mara drifted back into sleep. Luke snuggled in a little closer and sought sleep himself. It would have been nice to come once more himself, but the night just hadn't turned out that way.Just hadn’t been about that. This - being able to hold her, knowing this thing between them was real and serious to her, for all her uncertainty at the finer points - this was more than enough.

* * *

Mara woke to arms around her, Luke’s head nestled against her shoulder, his body warm and firm against her back. She lay still, focused on pulling her breathing back in as it threatened to spiral out of control. Her body felt chaotic, disordered. Caught in the jarring dissonance that was the warmth of Skywalker at her back, the soreness of stiff muscles, and a widening pit in her stomach.

Her throat was dry and her stomach and legs were sticky with the mess she’d made all over Luke’s fingers last night. Dried sweat clung to every inch of her skin like a film and made strands of hair stick to her cheek. Disgusting. How could he touch her when she was like this? She could smell sex on herself.

“Good morning.” His words were a sleepy rumble against her shoulder.

Something deep inside Mara hurt at the way he turned his head to nose behind her ear before he came fully awake. Why? She knew what they were doing. So did he. It was fine. Wasn’t it?

 _Like last night?_ An inner voice prodded. Last night was fine. It was. She’d come - three kriffing times. How could it not be fine? He’d been pleased. She’d kept her mouth shut about her discomfort and it had all worked out. She’d gotten over it. It'd been a stupid hang up anyway.

Luke shifted, pushed up on one arm, distancing himself a little. Shavit. She hadn’t answered him. He’d think she wasn’t all right. What did you say when you’d spent the night snarled together like shoddy ship wiring? She had no idea.

“I’ll start some water for tea. And caff.” Luke slipped out the other side of the bed.

Mara pressed her face into the pillow, cursing silently. She had to do better or he wouldn’t keep letting her come back. She drew her legs up, hissing as the stiff muscles protested and the dried stickiness pulled uncomfortably at her skin. Snaking a hand down under the blankets, Mara fingered the sore spots along the insides of her thighs. Love bites, her mind supplied, muzzily. She remembered the hot pressure of his mouth at her thighs and heat trickled into her again. His mouth had been everywhere and she hadn't been able to move and he -

“Mara?”

Fingers touched her hair and she started. Luke withdrew his hand and her cheeks burned. How had she not heard him come back?

“I didn’t mean to wake you again,” he said, apology in his voice. “You can go back to sleep. I’m going to take a shower quick.” He retreated without waiting for an answer, leaving her alone in the bedroom, her mind racing. It'd been good. It had. It'd been the best she'd had. _He'd_ been the best she'd had. She hadn't been able to think. That was what she'd come for, right? She'd needed that. And he'd delivered. In spades. Hadn't even gone for a second round himself. So what was her problem?

Nothing. There was no problem except the one she was making for herself now. She couldn’t botch this. She couldn’t. She heard the water start and lifted her head from the pillow.

* * *

Luke ducked his head under the shower spray and rubbed at his face. He’d thought things had gone well - Mara had let him hold her all night. But something was off this morning. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he could bring her around over tea. She didn’t usually stay long - she had to work, he knew. And he had to attend the Hearing. There wasn’t a lot of time, but there was some. It could be enough. He just had to feel out the right tack to take.

The ‘fresher door opened, bringing his head up. He watched through the clouded glass as Mara approached, the motion of her hips catching his eyes. To his surprise, she pressed the release to open the shower and stepped inside, shimmying her body up against his. Instinctively, he opened his arms to her, pulling her against him.

“Decided you wanted the shower first after all?” he teased, his hands spreading across the small of her back. 

Mara dipped her head, pressing a kiss to his chest, and one hand slid down his stomach, then lower. “Not what I came for.”

Luke caught his breath as her hand wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock. He leaned in, brushing a kiss across her temple.

“Tempting.” He dropped his mouth to her shoulder, pressing kisses to wet skin. “But you have to be sore.”

“Don’t care.”

He moaned as she started to stroke. For all that his mind suggested polite refusal was in order, his body was more than onboard.

“I want you.” Mara mouthed at his chest, dragged blunt nails lightly down his straining cock. “Inside me.”

Experience suggested showers were not helpful to such things, regardless of the innumerable steamy holo scenes to the contrary. But if she was that interested… he wanted her, too. Badly. More, he couldn’t bring himself to say no - not when he’d been concerned about how to make sure they parted well, and here she was serving up exactly what he’d wanted on a silver platter. He didn’t even know when he’d see her again--

Tightening his hold, Luke turned them, putting his back to the spray. Settling his hands on Mara’s hips, he lifted her. He used the Force to anchor his feet, keep himself from slipping as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn’t try to push into her, not yet. Instead, he braced her against the wall, tipping her back a little so he could stroke and mouth at her breasts.

Mara tipped her head back, her eyes falling shut. One hand slid into his wet hair, tangling in it as she held his mouth to her, groaned at it. Certain she was still feeling last night, Luke kept his touch mild - just enough to tease, arouse. Water misted on her skin, making it slick where she rocked against him, seeking friction. His own need pulsed hot, Mara’s moans and soft murmurs of approval fueling the fire until it could no longer be ignored.

Gripping her hips again, Luke adjusted her until he could press against her slit. She tensed slightly with a hiss and he stopped.

“S’okay,” she said quickly. “Please.”

He rubbed his cheek against hers. “We don’t have to,” he murmured. “Or other things. Whatever you want.”

“I want this,” her hands closed around him, “You do too.”

“Not if it’s not good for you.”

She huffed a laugh. “It’ll be good, just...go slow if you’re that concerned.” She pressed her lips against his, her hands skittering up to his shoulders. “I’m not.”

Burying his face in the curve of her shoulder, Luke worked his cock inside her slowly. She might be damp and willing, but far less slick than he’d have liked.The restraint was painful, but he gritted his teeth and stayed his pace. He could feel a slight tension in Mara still. He wouldn’t hurt her.

This was different here, now, than the game.

When he was fully in, Mara’s inner walls clamped down around him and he paused. “All right?” he asked, roughly, his hands tight on her thighs, savoring the weight and heat of her.

“More,” she demanded, huskily. “It's good.”

Luke chuckled, low and amused. Always pushing, his Mara. _His._ The thought caught as he started to thrust, slowly, ekking every ounce of pleasure from the friction of the glide, the way she clenched when he rocked all the way in. _She was his_. Wanted to be. Was trying. Emotion rose in his chest, robbing him of breath. She didn’t have to be here. Wouldn’t be here if it were just about the game. This wasn’t that.

“Mara.” Luke lifted a hand to her cheek, cupped it as he pressed his forehead to hers. He wouldn't last. His entire body was tight. “I’m not -- I can't --” Putting thoughts to words was proving difficult, he wanted to touch her but was she too sore? He dropped a cautious hand down to her thigh. “Do you--”

She plucked his hand from her leg and sucked his index and middle finger into her mouth, the visual overlaid with her last night. His cock in her amazing mouth.

Mara arched her back, her eyes shut tight as she pushed her hips against him as best she could in the tight quarters, lips around his fingers. She was so beautiful. So beautiful and - and _his_ \- Luke gasped her name again as the world washed white, pleasure crackling through him, leaving him sagging in the bliss of hot afterglow.

He braced one hand against the wall to steady suddenly weak knees, locked the other under Mara to keep her securely in place as he breathed hard. “That was...too...fast,” he wheezed a little, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I --”

His words were cut off when she buried her face in his shoulder her arms coming up clumsily around him in an uncertain embrace.He’d expected her to lean back, stretch in satisfaction at having gotten her way, like a manka cat. Or maybe to slide down, duck under the water.

His breath escaped in a rush as he wrapped both arms around her in return, cradled her to him in wonder, thinking of the way he’d woken up curled up against her. She hadn’t moved away. She wasn’t moving away.

It wasn’t about the game, he thought. But he’d play as long as he needed to for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ❤️ the end of this chapter so much, you guys. (Yes, I know, that's exactly zero percent a surprise with all my possessive dubcon kinks splashed all over it. I apologize for nothing!)
> 
> Also, THIS is why you're supposed to negotiate boundaries ahead of time. Waiting until you're all tied up, incoherent, and already in the middle of misunderstandings about your kinks/issues is SUCH a bad idea...


	14. Ch 13

“Senator Jensaar!” Mara called as soon as the Bith dressed in a formal tunic exited the room, an Elomin pair beside him. “Senator!”

He turned towards Mara, like politicians, he was hard to read as he nodded politely, “Liaison Jade.”

“If I could have just a few minutes of your time,” she said hurriedly. “I won’t take very long. I’ve been trying to get through your office,” but he’d stonewalled her to the next century, “but I understand you’ve been busy.”

She could see him trying to formulate some exit and continued, “Just a couple of minutes. That’s all, Senator.” With an inward wince, she added, “Senator Tevv mentioned you as one of the most reasonable members of the Senate.”

Tevv had washed his hands from this mess, Mara didn’t know if bringing him up was the best idea, but at this point she was willing to try anything.

Jensaar hesitated for a nervewracking couple of seconds then told the two Elomin, “Go on without me to Ivar’s and keep working on that formal request. Tell him I’m going to need to see that budget by this afternoon, too.”

“Understood,” one of the Elomin replied and they hurried away.

“First,” Mara started as soon as they were out of earshot falling into step beside the senator. She had no idea where he was going, but she didn’t care as long as he heard her out. “I would like to personally apologize--”

“Apologies will not bring the supplies back,” Jensaar cut her off. “That was a very important deal for my constituency.”

“I understand that. If I could have done something to prevent what happened I would.”

“But you cannot, so what can I do for you, Liaison?”

Mara swallowed. “I’m approaching you for what I can do for you, Senator.”

His head tilted appraisingly. “I was under the impression that the Smuggler’s Alliance was struggling due to lack of resources.”

“We have had some...challenges, but you are a special case, Senator. The incident with Dorvalla Mining was unacceptable.”

“Just as the Talasea Incident was.”

Mara flinched. “Of course. The Talasea Incident was what started our...current difficulties.” She cleared her throat. “What happened was terrible. We understand that. I regret that too, but the punitive measures in place help no one. I’m not making excuses.”

“If not excuses then what are you offering, Liaison? Be blunt.”

Mara almost smiled at the irony of being asked for once to be blunt. “I have spoken to one of my carriers and they are willing to transport supplies for no cost. This will allow the original suppliers to recoup the losses incurred from the previous instance. We cannot get the time back, but we can defray the expense.”

She braced herself. This had to work. She’d put so much on the line for it.

Senator Jensaar’s scrutinized her. “One can’t get something for nothing, even when an error has occurred. Who will pay for this?”

Mara swallowed. “What we know as the Smuggler’s Alliance is only a small part of the organization that answers to Talon Karrde.” She stopped there, hoping that Jensaar would follow the train of thought.

He did. “Your boss is answering for it.”

“The Smuggler’s Alliance was Senator Tevv’s brainchild in partnership with Karrde, as you know. He has reason to want it to succeed,” she lied smoothly, “and none of the...limitations that Senator Tevv has.”

Jensaar tipped his head. “Yes, Tevv has been pressed as of late.”

“And Karrde knows this,” Mara lowered her voice. “We need friends now more than ever.”

“The scoops,” Jensaar lifted a long finger. “Have done you no favors.”

“None,” she agreed. “We’re not...unaware that Senator Foryk keeps voicing his unhappiness at the Smuggler’s Alliance, but we wonder if he understands that the New Republic continues to have need for shipping outside the Core. Shipping that Core companies will continue to refuse to provide.”

“If it’s all like the incompetents that Dorvalla Mining dealt with--”

“It’s been one incident in a year,” she hated the pleading note in her voice, “given the complexity of what we do--”

“And Talasea?”

Mara forced herself to keep her tone even. “We’ve taken responsibility for it and we accept that some security measures are necessary, but the New Republic also has to understand that they are not dealing with Core carriers. There needs to be some compromise.” She paused. “This is why we are turning to you, Senator. Take what we offer. Go back to your constituents and continue your venture at Clak’dor. We simply hope that you’ll act as a voice of reason when it comes to the Smuggler’s Alliance.”

She held her breath. Senator Tevv had mentioned how important this was for Jensaar. He had to take it.

“All right,” he finally said, just as they rounded a corner. “I’ll have someone contact you. See this through and I’ll see what I can do. And given the scoops, Liaison, you might want to investigate your agency for leaks.”

_Leaks?_ “What?”

Jensaar stared at her fixedly. “You should pay more attention to the media, Liaison.”

Mara nodded. A leak? “Thank you, Senator. I will.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he added gruffly. “Foryk is making a whole lot of noise and you know Ackbar’s faction would like nothing more than to see the Alliance dismantled. It’s a wonder they haven’t gotten into the mix. If they do,” he shook his head, “and Tevv can’t afford to go out into the line of fire for you anymore, you’ll need more friends.”

Mara nodded. “We’re working on it, but this means a lot to us, Senator.”

“No problems this time,” he cautioned.

“You have my personal guarantee,” Mara told him as they came to an entryway. The senator tipped his head towards her.

“I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

“Good morning, Master Skywalker!”

“Good morning, Mugami. Is Leia here yet?”

“No, Master Skywalker, but she reserved your usual table. May I seat you?”

Luke smiled at the maitre’d. “I think I can find my way, thanks. If you’d sent over a hot chocolate to get me started, though, I’d appreciate it.”

“Right away, Sir.” 

_The Piccolo_ was an odd combination of classic diner and high-end dining luxuries. Located high in the soaring levels of a [district] cloudcutter, it was entirely sectioned off into individual rooms. Some were nearly the size of conference rooms, while others were little more than cubbies. Each was individually decorated with kitschy decor from a specific decade of Coruscant history and equipped with the latest in discrete privacy tech. Aside from Mugami, his two assistants and the chef, all service was provided by droids who were wiped between customers, absolutely ensuring that guests had complete privacy for whatever they wished to discuss… or do, but Luke always tried not to think too hard about what creative or indecent things other beings might have done on the table he was going to be eating at. 

Leia had frequented the place when she was a young Senator and introduced Luke to it not long after Coruscant had been retaken. It had quickly become a favorite breakfast spot, when they could align their schedules to connect around their busy days.

As usual, there was a selection of local news and gossip publications available in the booth. He picked up the top data pad, thinking to check the smashball scores since they inevitably showed up in small talk at events or interviews he had to attend, but the word ‘Jedi’ caught his attention and he thumbed over to the tab to see the whole headline.

_“We Brought This On Ourselves” - Local Group Claims Betrayal of the Jedi Caused Recent Tragedy_

Confused, Luke skimmed down the article.

_Zieger Calhuu was eight years old the day Clone Troopers stormed the Temple._

_“I will never forget,” he says, “my mother hurrying me past the edifice as smoke poured from its shattered windows. They were carrying bodies out - men, women, even children. Piling them on the platform in a disgraceful heap. I watched a trooper carry out a little boy, younger than me and throw him on the platform like so much refuse, at the feet an elder Bith whose body was riddled with the scorch marks of more blaster bolts than I could count. We did nothing - said nothing, just ducked our heads and hurried by. Just like everyone else.”_

The door slid open. “Your cocoa, Master Skywalker.”

“Thank you, Fritza,” he said, distractedly, accepting his drink from the droid. Taking a sip as she retreated, his brow furrowed as he returned to the article.

_Now grown, the Hamadryas says he believes that the recent tragedy at the Temple is a sort of galactic karma._

_“We brought this on ourselves,” he asserts. “Places have memories, and the galaxy perpetually seeks to balance itself. The Jedi were our neighbors, and we did nothing to protect them. Did nothing to give their souls peace, even! No memorials were held, no rites given. It should not surprise us that grief has come again to this place.”_

_Calhuu and his organization, the Karmic Balance, are petitioning municipal authorities for the right to create a memorial shrine at the Temple - not for the victims of the recent tragedy, but for the Jedi killed on the same site decades ago._

“I see you’d found the headlines.”

Luke looked up, startled out of his reading. “Leia.” Quickly putting the data pad down, he rose to give his sister a quick hug, then dropped back into his seat as she slid into the booth across from him. “You’ve seen this?

“It’s causing quite a stir.” She made a face, then smiled as Fritza appeared with her caff. “Shall we have the usual?”

“Sure,” he agreed, distractedly. “Actually, add an order of spicy nerf sausage to mine, will you? I’m starving.”

Warmth momentarily rose inside him as he remembered exactly why he was ravenous — Mara’s body writhing in his bed, arched under his hands against his shower wall.

“Of course, Sir.” Fritza bobbed something like a curtsy and bustled out.

Leia shook her head at him. “That metabolism of yours is entirely unfair,” she complained with an affectionate quirk of her lips. If I ate the way you do, I’d look like a Hutt.”

It was a familiar tease, and Luke gave her the cheeky shrug she expected before lifting and waggling the data pad slightly to bring them back on topic. 

“Mon’s not happy at all,” Leia blew lightly on her steaming caff, her lips pursing. “It might blow over, but it’s the makings of a political mess all over it if it doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t want to authorize the shrine?”

Leia shook her head. “It isn’t that.” She took a sip of her drink, her eyebrows drawing together as she considered. “Mon knew Jedi, personally. Not closely, I don’t think, but she’d mentioned having friends who were close to a few – enough that she was familiar. What happened at the Temple never sat well with her. She’d like to see some kind of rite or gesture of respect, in the right context. At the right time. But this…” she shook her head again. “This is anything but the right time.”

Luke frowned. “Healing comes in its own time,” he pointed out. “If this is when people are moved to seek it, then it must be the right time.”

His sister smiled drolly at him. “Spoken like a Jedi.”

The door clicked, a polite warning they were about to be interrupted. Leia sat back and Luke hurried to move the data pad and his mug out of the way as Fritza entered.

“Here we are!” she chirped cheerfully. “Poached nuna eggs and choya toast,” she announced, sliding a broad-rimmed plate in front of Leia. “And batter-fried custard bread and spicy nerf sausage.”

Luke’s stomach rumbled as he inhaled the savory and sweet aromas wafting off the platter she set in front of him. “Thanks, Fritza.”

“Sure thing, Master Skywalker.” She winked at him, pulling bottles of condiments out of her frilled apron and popping them onto the table in a neat diamond shape. “Enjoy!”

She hurried out and Luke reached for the carbo syrup. “Bad timing?” he prompted, tilting the little glass pitcher over his plate.

“It’s budget season,” Leia reminded him, spreading her napkin over her lap. “Funds are tight, and a contingent of the Senate is being particularly difficult about key provisions. Mon’s working overtime trying to create the consensus we need to ensure it passes. It’s not just about the memorial. If Mon clears it the next step is finding funds for it, and some are just going to say the credits are needed elsewhere. Others will make a big fuss over why Jedi are being honored but those who died at the Palace aren’t. They’d have a point, and then you’d have two memorials, but then where would the credits for both come from? We’re dealing with a deficit still and it’s not going away.”

Luke licked a trace of syrup off his fingers, unsettled. The NR budget was no small concern. Hundreds of vital programs depended on proper funding to keep the galaxy running smoothly, and poor allocations, he’d learned, could have devastating effects when least expected. A few missions run without the proper gear floated to mind. But weighed against the healing of a population… it felt callous, somehow, for two such divergent things to be pitted against one another.

“The Hearing Commission is pushing for Airen to testify, too.” Leia neatly cut a piece of egg with her knife and fork, then switched her fork to the other hand to spear the morsel. “So, Mon, Baruba, and the rest of the legal team have had that to maneuver, as well.”

Luke chewed, the spice of his sausage bursting across this tongue as he thought. “That’s a lot to have on her plate,” he acknowledged after swallowing. “But I don’t think this is something that can be delayed.” He scooped another bite of eggy bread onto his fork. “There are so many wounds here, old and new. People need something.”

“You think the Shrine is the thing?” Leia eyed him curiously over her caff. “Because I’m not sure it is.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with interest.

“There’s room for it to be misinterpreted,” she pointed out, going back to her meal. “The death of the Jedi is on the Emperor. Nothing anyone else could have done would have stopped it. You and I both know anyone who objected would have been slaughtered right alongside the inhabitants of the Temple. Grieving is one thing – guilt over something they couldn’t prevent is another smashball game entirely.”

She would know. Luke downed the last of his hot chocolate as he considered that. 

“People need to know it isn’t their fault,” he agreed. “But I think the shrine could be helpful in that. Give them a chance to come together around something. Find peace together. Maybe I could say something -”

“Don’t you dare,” Leia’s eyes darted up. “Not without clearing it, first.”

He made an impatient noise. “I’m a Jedi, Leia. I think I can —”

“Luke.” She cut him off. “This isn’t about you. It’s about the bigger picture. Whether it’s public knowledge or not, the Purge - and the Jedi in general – can’t be disentangled from what’s going on with the hearing. Or even from the budget mess, right now! Until some other things settle down, we have to be extremely careful about everything that comes out of your mouth.”

“That’s not going to do anyone any favors,” he shot back, ire rising. How many times had they had this conversation? “Being quiet – being apart – everything we know,” which, admittedly wasn’t much, “says that was part of the problem. It’s part of why the Old Order isn’t here anymore. Why Force-sensitives have been hiding and running and dying for two decades!” He blew out a breath. “I want it to be different now. It has to be different now.”

“I know.” Leia’s face softened, and she reached across the table for his hand. “I hear you, Luke. I do. So does Mon and Baruba and the Council, when you say the same thing to them.”

_Over and over and over_ passed between them, unsaid.

“We will do everything we can to honor that. But not yet. Right now, you need to sit tight and trust us – and hope this whole thing blows over without us getting dragged through the mud.”

* * *

_A leak?_

Mara would have to deal with that later. For now she looked at the new contract Dorvalla Mining had sent them, bracing herself. She’d promised it to Jensaar and now more than ever she needed a friendly voice on her side. Breathing in she input a code in her comm.

“Tebes Corp.” Mara grimaced. The smuggler she was contacting tended to put on airs he was bigger than he was. She was counting on it in fact.

“This is Liaison Jade with the New Republic’s Smuggler’s Alliance,” she told whoever he had working the comms. “Is Parvo in?”

“I think so. May I ask what your business is?”

“It’s confidential,” Mara replied. He’d love that too. “Tell him it’s Mara Jade.”

“Just a moment.”

She didn’t have to wait long. She’d personally saved Parvo’s life when she started working for Karrde and they’d been caught in a deal gone sour. Parvo no longer worked under Karrde’s auspices, but he’d left amicably and stayed out of Karrde’s terrain.

“Been a long time, Jade,” he greeted when he came on the line.

“It has.”

“And the New Republic?” He laughed. “You left Karrde to become legit.”

“More like some of Karrde’s ventures are now more...official than they once were, but I’m sure you’re too busy for chitchat. I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“The office I work for coordinates shipping done by smugglers to...less frequented areas. The Borderlands. Outer Rim--”

“You mean less patrolled.”

“Sure, I’m in need of a carrier. Someone trustworthy--”

“Don’t you have a fleet? Or rather Karrde’s fleet? Heard something like that through the grapevine.”

“We had people,” Mara blew out a breath, “And then we had problems.”

“I think I heard that too. Lots of checks, shavit pay.”

“It’s a complicated story, but if you give me your assurance about a carrier to the Cla’dor sector, I’m prepared to pay you standard price.”

“And those checks?”

Mara felt herself smile humorlessly. “You don’t have to worry about them. Our client is that high profile.”

He lowered his voice. “I know I owe you one, but last I heard Sec wiped out near half of a crew over at Talasea. That’s a tough sell to anyone.”

“That was a...special situation. You know that. What’s the likelihood you’ll have a mutiny on your hands?”

His answer was immediate. “Zero. Less than that.”

“Good. The client just needs the material to get there and he’s willing to pay top credits.Let me worry about the security checkpoints. But whoever you choose needs to have an iron spine, I can’t have carriers scurrying the second they see a planetary security force.”

“After what happened at Talasea, you can’t blame them.”

“The client is aware,” Mara told him tightly. “He’s willing to foot half up front.”

Parvo laughed. “Credits in hand make anyone braver. I’ll have no problems getting someone then.”

“All right.” Mara input the information. Usually this would be Klinu’s or one of their clerk’s duties, but she didn’t want to risk their eyes. She just needed this done.

She stared at the comm just as she had stared at the contract after she closed the line. It would be easy and it was. She’d been told when she started that these funds where available for emergencies. This was an emergency, if she didn’t get Jensaar in her corner pressure against the Smuggler’s Alliance would mount, she’d be even less likely to do her job.

So it was just a matter of routing some funds. What did it matter if Parvo was outside Karrde’s network? She had a temporary approval clearance for urgent needs. True that kind of approval usually meant a New Republic official would be watching them, but Sec over at Clak’dor had already been chastised for what happened. They’d be unlikely to do more than the most cursory check and even more unlikely to give her grief over a procedural blip.

She could do this. It would be the best thing for everyone.

* * *

He had four minutes before he had to make an appearance. Tucked in an out of the way corner of the event hall, Luke rolled his comm unit between his fingers.

She wouldn’t answer him. He knew that, had accepted it. But that was okay. He understood, now. The way she’d wrapped her arms around him, pressed his face into his shoulder - they clung to his memory, softened his expectations. She wanted him - wanted them. He could bridge the gaps. He wanted to.

He flicked the cover open and licked his lips. Something light, easy. Give her something that doesn’t need a response. He thought of the fleeting smile she’d given him before they’d parted ways. His own lips quirked.

_Stuck at another bantha-and-anooba-show tonight. Fey’lya’s new fur oil smells like a swamp slug. Han and I are taking bets on which delegate passes out first. I’ve got odds on the Chandra-fan. He took the Rodian. Pretty sure I’ll win... as long as Leia doesn’t catch us._

Reviewing the message, he punched “send” before he could overthink it. Flipping the comm shut, he stowed it in his pocket, unable to stop the smile that crept over his face as he imagined Mara looking at her own comm, screwing up her nose in that look of gloriously haughty disdain she adopted whenever the Bothan’s name came up.

“Master Skywalker!” One of Leia’s aides glided over as he stepped out of his hiding spot and into the flow of traffic. “Councilor Organa is looking for you. Come this way please.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the whole thing with Jensaar here was supposed to be part of a plot thread in which Mara def bends the rules in sketchy ways to try to save the SA. An illustration of her desperation and slipping self-control. I'm not happy with how it comes across all told - I never managed to dial it in the way I wanted, but that was the goal. 
> 
> Also, I love the idea of Luke and Leia meeting for breakfast sometimes, just the two of them! They missed so much no growing up together - they deserve to enjoy sibling time while they can! Plus, it's fun to imagine the kind of unique restaurants/dining establishments one might find on a place like Coruscant.


	15. Ch 14

“Professor Tharen,” [name] said, peering at the aging human male on the stand. “You are the chair of the Department of Planetary History at the University of Coruscant, are you not?”

“Indeed I am.”

Tharen’s voice was notably more cheerful than anyone else so far called to testify, and Luke examined the Hearing room’s enlarged, projected holo-image of the man curiously.He wore a tailored but worn suit in a checked pattern of red and blue that was simultaneously extremely loud and somehow inexplicably tasteful. _Old Republic chic_ Leia would have called it – a holdover from the era in which extravagant, colorful clothing was the norm, before the Empire had swept through with its military greens, battleship greys, pressed whites and deep blacks.

His salt-and-pepper beard and unruly white hair set off bright, intelligent eyes.

The hearing’s focus was shifting. It seemed to be pivoting from a focus on the Sec aspects of the Incident to a more educational orientation, given the witnesses listed on the schedule. Professor Tharen would be followed by two other scholars from research institutes Luke wasn’t familiar with. 

“You have asserted,” [Councilbeing] frowned, “that the recent tragedy at the Temple is not the isolated incident this Commission believes it to be.”

“No, it isn’t,” Tharen nodded. ”There’s been quite a few tragic incidents in its history.”

Wait, what? Was he referring to the Purge? Or was there something else?

[Councilbeing] raised an eyebrow, skepticism writ large all over his face. “Can you elaborate, please, Professor?”

“Obviously no place which has been continuously inhabited for millennia can be without its share of dramatic incidents,” Tharen said. “And certainly no one missed the genocide of the Jedi executed upon the ascension of the late Emperor.”

_Oh._ Luke slouched back into his chair as he trying not to sink into his dismay. If this was going to devolve into a general history lecture on his father’s atrocities at the Emperor’s orders —

“Personally, however, I find striking similarities between the recent Incident and the notoriously scandalous Temple Hangar Bombing of 19 BBY.”

Temple bombing? Luke snapped upright in his seat, startling Baruba beside him.

[Councilbeing] glanced up and down the head table, then back at the witness. “This Commission is not familiar with that event, Professor. Perhaps you could enlighten us?”

“Ah, of course.”

Suddenly energized, Luke suppressed a grin. He’d seen the same gleam that twinkled in the professor’s eyes when asking Wedge about the latest fighters on the market or getting Han wound up about modifications to the _Falcon_ he was particularly proud of.

“19 BBY was, you understand, the height of the Clone Wars.” Tharen folded wrinkled fingers together in front of his chin and leaned forward a little, as if preparing to share juicy, gossipy secrets.“Civil unrest was at its peak, and not just in general population. Many Jedi were becoming disillusioned with the role they’d been cast to play in the conflict, as well. The massive losses at Geonosis caused deep wounds within the close-knit Temple community, and years of being stretched thin by war were taking their toll.”

Geonosis? Luke wracked his memory. There’d been a mention of that in Ben’s journals, he was sure. Oblique, though, he recalled with frustration. No details. What had happened at Geonosis?

“Early in that year, a bomb was detonated in the main hangar of the Temple, killing a number of clones and maintenance workers and taking the lives of four Jedi.” Tharen held up a finger. “Therein lies our first similarity – an act of violence in what was believed to be sacred space that caused the violent deaths of innocent members of the Coruscant population as they went about their daily duties.” 

Luke’s mind raced. How had he never heard about this? Even with the Empire’s purging, that should have been in the public record somewhere. 

“The Jedi were, of course, deeply distressed,” Tharen continued. “So much so, that they recalled the Hero With No Fear from the front lines of the war.”

_Father!_ They’d called his father back from the heart of battle to lead an investigation?

“Of course, there’s tremendous speculation on the motivations of that choice. Skywalker did have experience investigating matters for both the Order and the Chancellor at the time – most notably, the investigation into the attempts on the life of Senator Amidala of Naboo a year or two prior. More importantly, inside sources claim his military service and personal relationships with both the Chancellor and Master Obi-wan Kenobi, who sat on the Jedi Council, positioned him as a figure both the Jedi and the Senate trusted to run an impartial investigation.”

His father had been called on to protect a Senator? How had that happened?

“In any event,” Tharen continued, waving his hand as if everything he’d just said was only marginally important, “the key point is that, as with the current disaster, there was a general understanding that the Temple was a sort of shared ground.”

“What do you mean by shared ground?” [Councilbeing] interrupted, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

“Physically, the Temple exists on Coruscant and is, therefore, an inextricable part of its structure and environments, in all senses of the word. Legally, the structure itself belonged to the Order. But the Order was subordinate to the Senate and the lines of possession and authority were never clearly drawn. For example,” he held one hand out flat, palm up. “The Clones and their equipment – gunships, that sort of thing – were committed to the Jedi, but paid for by the Senate and technically owned by the military. Thus, while the Jedi were leading the investigation, there were overtures from the very beginning from military authorities about getting involved.”

“So the Jedi and the military were at odds over responsibility for the bombing and its investigation,” [Councilbeing] summed up.

“Yes, but they weren’t the only parties involved. The public demanded answers. There was quite a crowd at the entrance to the Temple for several days, protesting most vigorously.” He cleared his throat, cheekily. “Rather like we have now, if I may say so. They had much more clever signs, though,” he mused, the ends of his mustache sticking out as he frowned.

[Councilbeing] cleared his throat. “Professor —”

“Yes, yes.” Tharen pulled himself back on track. “The families of those injured, maimed and lost, you understand, were quite distressed. It was considered quite an honor to work at the Temple. Not unlike the pride many of those lost in the recent disaster rightfully took in working for the New Republic. The idea that a Jedi might have slaughtered not only their own, but those faithfully serving them – it was abhorrent. Terrifying. We sent the Jedi to steamroll the Separatists on our behalf, and celebrated when holos of their victories were played in the streets. No one was quite prepared to think about what it might look like for that beloved might to turn on those with whom it quietly dwelled.”

Queasiness rolled in Luke’s stomach. He wanted to protest that the Jedi would never turn on their own – never betray the people they were sworn to protect. But it had happened – his own father, called in to handle this important task, trusted by his peers. He would slaughter them all.

_And they’d known._

The thought was like a punch to the gut. The Council had known there was potential for betrayal within their ranks. Known their own fellow Jedi might be willing to murder them. _Ben._ He tried to imagine his first master sitting on the Council, grappling with those realities. Those decisions. And the Council! He’d never mentioned holding such a seat.

Dark humor curled inside him. It was probably an honor of some kind to be trained by a member of the Council, and he’d been trained by two. Did it still count if they didn’t want you? If they’d taken you because you were the only one to take? A stab of guilt followed. Might Kyp have asked himself the same question?

“Russo, the Jedi’s crime scene investigation droid on the case, so aptly phrased it on the record, ‘ Fear makes even the most trusting individual irrational’.” Tharen shook his head, sadly.

“That is precisely why this Commission has been launched, Professor,” [Councilbeing] interjected, sincerely. “To find the truth, so that the people of Coruscant do not have to live in fear, and that all parties involved can make informed, rational decisions regarding the future.”

“Professor,” [Councilbeing] commandeered the microphone droid. “Was it ever determined who was responsible for the bombing?”

“Oh yes. A young Jedi padawan — apprentice — named Barriss Offee conspired with a woman named Letta Turmond to plan the attack. Turmond fed her husband, who was the Munitions Foreman for several contingents of Jedi-led Clone trooper divisions, a healthy serving of explosive nano-droids. Blew the poor man to smithereens just before his lunch break.”

Luke’s breath caught. The perpetrator had used her unsuspecting husband as a weapon? Had she been Forced? Deceived?

[Councilbeing] cleared his throat. “Did Ms. — Turmond, was it? — give a reason for her actions?”

It was the same question he was asking himself, Luke knew. Just voiced in a more politic manner.

“She told the Jedi who took her into custody, and I quote — ‘some citizens of the Republic believe the Jedi Order have become warmongers — military weapons. Killing when they should be keeping the peace.’ Her Jedi accomplice gave similar reasoning when she was eventually apprehended.”

For a long moment, the hearing room was eerily silent.

“For the edification of this Commission,” [Councilbeing] asked, finally, his voice low and grave, “to what punishment was Ms. Turmond sentenced, and by which authority?”

“She was strangled to death in her cell,” Theran announced. HIs palm slapped against the table, making half the audience jump violently. “By none other than her accomplice! I’ll spare you the resulting mess, as it’s not so relevant to your inquest here, but suffice to say it is utterly illustrative of the same chaos - too many jurisdictions overlapping. War weariness and mistrust and good intentions corrupted by fear.” He leaned back in his seat. “I assume your next question will be what happened to Jedi Offee, no?”

“I believe that information would be most instructive, yes,” [Councilbeing] agreed, neutrally. 

“She was murdered, too,” Theran said, bluntly. “She remained under the care of her Master, serving the galaxy in the role of a healer until she was cut down on Felucia upon the execution of Order 66.”

_They let her stay._ Hope and grief shot through his chest and Luke had to focus on drawing air into his constricted lungs. The Jedi hadn’t executed their wayward apprentice. They’d let her stay with her Master, reassigned her somewhere she could both find and give healing. It was stunningly unexpected and breathtakingly wonderful — there was precedent, now, for him being allowed to see Kyp. To help him. 

_Thank you,_ he thought into the Force. _Thank you for this._

* * *

Mara looked at her staff list, feeling her jaw clench. She’d hired them all personally and one of them was talking to the press. Worse, Senator Jensaar knew. Who knew who else had pieced it up? Tiredness crept along her shoulders. When would she get some breathing room?

Mara forced herself to focus on the list. She would probably have to get the Senate Information Security team involved.

A soft knock came at her door. “Yes?”

Klinu’s head popped in. “You said you wanted to see me.”

Mara gestured her in. “Come in and close the door.”

Klinu did as she was asked and took a seat.

“Are you aware of scoops like this?” Mara passed Klinu the datapad. The HoloNet headline blared the headline _Dorvalla Mining Shipments Disrupted_.

Klinu shook her head. “I know there was some uproar about Talasea.”

Mara nodded. “This seems too trivial for it to have been picked up the same way. Stands to reason it wasn’t simply picked up, but rather someone handed it to the media.”

“From here? Us?” Klinu leaned back. “Someone in this office?”

“That’s what Jensaar suggested.” Mara crossed her arms over her chest.“We don’t need this right now. I’m going to to get SIS involved. Unless you have a better read of who it could be --then we can be quieter about how we deal with it.” She grabbed the datapad back.

Klinu cocked her head. A few moments passed before she shook it. “No, all I’ve heard is the usual gripping about coordination being a hassle. No one stands out to me as particularly disgruntled. Are you thinking of pushing this up to the Judiciary?”

Mara scoffed. “We’re too low on their priority list. No, we’re better off dealing with it ourselves after SIS gives me a sense of what information is leaving this office. They monitor everything, chances are it won’t take them long to identify whoever it is.”

Klinu’ s eyes flickered back. “And that’s when you’re planning to tell them?”

She nodded. “I hope it won’t be too disruptive, but we can’t be having someone airing out all our bad laundry. We’re trying to dig ourselves out of a hole as it is. If Jensaar knows, others are bound to know too. I can’t have this office looking like anything but a tight ship right now.”

“They won’t be happy,” Klinu murmured. She seemed to shake herself. “But you’re right. Did Parvo clear?”

Mara stiffened. Not exactly, but Klinu didn’t need to know that. Parvo just needed to make that one delivery. She needed to rebuild goodwill from _somewhere_ , and that was worth the risk. She had a right to those funds.Even if SIS went over her files, it wouldn’t flag and the permissions were outside their purview anyway.

“Yeah,” she said tersely. “I took care of it.”

Klinu smiled. “That’s good, so Jensaar’s on his way to be a happy customer. Things should finally be on the upswing.”

Mara folded her hands on her desk and forced a smile. “I hope so.”

* * *

“Professor Tharen! Professor Tharen!”

The professor halted, the crowds flowing around him as he turned at the sound of his name. His expression brightened when he caught sight of Luke, ducking through the foot traffic toward him.

“Professor Tharen.” Luke thrust out his hand as he caught up. “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

“Yes,” Tharen chuckled, shaking his hand warmly. “I’m aware.”

Luke barely avoided ducking his head in embarrassment. “Old habit,”he said by way of apology. “Do you have a moment? I’d very much like to speak to you about the Old Order.”

“Well, men of my stature don’t speak for free, young man,” Tharen said, gruffly. “It’ll cost you at least one caf. I never share my knowledge for less.” He held up a finger. “I warn you, I’m quite particular. University caff will not cut it.”

Luke smiled. “I know just the place.”

A little over half an hour later, Luke leaned forward over a private table at the _Nutty Narglatch_ , his fingers tightening around his enormous stoneware mug of hot chocolate. His mind swirled with the tidbits Tharen had shared on the way over from the Hearing and their implications. The media, according to what little he’d seen, was unimpressed with the commission’s more educational focus but Luke’s skepticism had vanished after hearing Tharen’s testimony. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. But here, in the privacy of the booth, one pounded against his skull, demanding precedence.

With deliberate effort to keep any trace of accusation out of his tone, he asked, “Professor, you have so much knowledge of the Temple – of the Jedi. Information I’ve spent years searching for. Is there a reason you didn’t reach out? Did I – did I do something, to make you think…?”

Tharen’s bushy eyebrows drew down. “I’ve attempted to contact you twice, Master Skywalker. For entirely selfish reasons, I admit. It’s noted in the documentation, for example, that Anakin Skywalker could still hear the screams of the dead and dying when he returned to Coruscant to begin his investigation. I was hoping to get your insights on how long phenomenon like that might be expected to continue.” He lifted his own, equally generous mug of tar-thick caff, paused with it at his lips. “You never acknowledged either of my overtures.”

Luke’s stomach dropped. “I never saw them,” he blurted, his mind racing.

How could he have not seen something like that? An image of his overflowing professional inbox popped into his mind. How many nights had he skimmed through an endless list of messages, bleary-eyed and barely coherent, triaging the onslaught, dealing only with the ones Leia’s team had flagged for him?

A memory surfaced of emerging from yet another public appearance, Leia’s aide materializing at his side with high-priority orders, abruptly putting his life on hold. Again. He thought of the autofilters on his NR-issued comm system. Standard procedure the techs had assured him. How much was that system eating while he was off solving crises? How much was never getting through at all? How many other Professor Tharens were out there, believing that the aloof Master Skywalker had deemed them unworthy of his attention?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

_Never his mind on where he was. What he was doing._ The prod at his brain felt very much like a mental gimer stick and he stifled a wince. There would be time later to process his disappointment, his frustration. Right now, he had an opportunity to fix some small part of this inadvertent, previously unrecognized mistake. He would not waste it. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, settling his mind in the moment.

“I’m not sure what happened to your messages,” he said, meeting the Professor’s watchful eyes sincerely, “but if you’ve time, the rest of my evening is yours.”

* * *

Mara had just finished typing the report she would file to SIS when her comm sounded. She clicked through the message received announcement, the sound loud in the silence of her office.

_Are you at your office? I bet you are I hope at least you’ve managed to eat something between all that coordinating shipments. I just sat through an impromptu lecture on the Clone Wars. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I didn’t know there’d been that many protests. The professor showed me some of the signs._

Mara scrolled down to the attached holo. It was grainy and blurry but she could make out a large sign in a being’s hand. _Stop Cloning Violence._

_I think Karrde would appreciate that don’t you think?_

It took her a second, but Mara’s lip quirked despite the accompanying twinge. She wasn’t exactly familiar with the details of the Clone Wars. Briefly, she wondered why Luke would put himself through a history lesson, but chalked it up to more Jedi research. From a professor now? Mara’s eyebrows raised.

Luke sent her one or two of these inconsequential messages daily. At first, she’d scanned through them with dread, but over the days she’d come to get used to them. He didn’t seem put off by her lack of reply, and his remarks were bland musings on his day and whatever errand or activity he was on. By all accounts she should be bored. None of what he described was particularly interesting -- he’d only mentioned the hearing in passing. But Mara found herself smiling at each message. Sometimes she read them more than once.

She put the comm back on her desk.Every message reminded her of the key he’d sent, though none of them had made any more overtures. It’d been good, right? It had. And Luke hadn’t pressed her to make it anything other than what it was since his misguided message about the Galatina before. She could go over.

Just the thought made her flush.

But there was something else. Something discomfiting too. It’d been good, but she… Mara exhaled. She felt odd about it in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. As much as heat flared up when she’d thought back to him calling her needy, something else made her cringe. She wasn’t. It was just sex.

Her office comm sounded, and she opened the line with some relief for the distraction. Klinu and the rest of her staff had already gone home. “Yes?”

“Good evening, Gentle. I am Sarral Gyat from Cyrtac Institute for New Prosperity.”

Mara shook her head. The day she sold herself off to lobbyists would be a dark day indeed. “I’m still not interested.”

“I understand you are very busy,” the voice on the other end continued smoothly. “We wouldn’t take much of your time. In fact, what we offer you are the results of a study on the current state of New Republic shipping --”

“That your institute commissioned. Yeah, I appreciate it but no thanks.” Mara closed the line.

Several lobbyist groups had tried to approach her since the Smuggler’s Alliance started, Cyrtac being the most aggressive. As far as she was concerned they were nothing but the same corrupt organizations that had made a feast out of the Old Republic. Having to court Senators was one thing. Courting special interests was another thing entirely.

She looked at her chrono. It was late and realistically she could get ready for tomorrow at her place just as well as here. For once nothing was imminent. Everything with Parvo had cleared, it was just a matter of waiting and then they’d have a friend in the Senate again, someone to pressure the Bureau to ease off their restrictions.

As for SIS, that was out of her hands now. She’d have to wait for them to finish their survey of the monitoring tech and see what they found. Her office staff was relatively small, it shouldn’t take them long.

All the disasters and hiccups were just part of growing pains. Karrde had been wrong, Mara thought beginning to pack her things. She didn’t need him and she didn’t need Tevv either. She could make new friends to replace the old. She was going to salvage this. She’d make a new name for herself here at the center of it all.

And she’d do it on her own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Professor Tharen looks and sounds like _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_ Sean Connery, FYI.
> 
> (2) All of the Bariss Offee stuff comes from TCW show. 
> 
> (3) If you are cringing about where Mara's head is, I am right there with you...


	16. Ch 15

“In other news, fringe geologist Yaru Vaal published a report yesterday claiming that Coruscant’s planetary core is unstable and that pre-volcanic activity in the crust is responsible for the earthquake that preceded the recent Temple tragedy.”

Dropping his spoon in the sink, Luke carried his mug of hot chocolate out into the lounge, his eyes scanning the holo-news chyron, hoping he’d misheard.

“According to Vaal,” the anchor continued seriously, “within a few years’ time the now-nascent disruptions in Coruscant’s molten core will break through the compressed silica of the crust, bursting through the polar ice caps and other thin or previously punctured locations, such as the ground beneath the Temple, causing massive destruction and cataclysmic loss of life. When reached for comment, the Hospitality Division of the Coruscant Merchant’s Guild expressed its firm belief that polar properties would remain safe and operational for decades to come, despite the dire predictions.”

Still barefoot, Luke padded across the thick carpet and pressed the controls embedded in his desk’s polished surface to mute the holo feed. Sipping his drink, he shuffled through the data pads on his desk with one hand, calling up his schedule for the day on one and stacking two others he wanted to look at later if time presented itself.

The movement uncovered his buried comm link. Seized by impulse, Luke plucked it up and flipped to the text function.

_Have you heard the latest? Apparently Kyp isn’t really an Imperial plant — the planetary crust is dissolving and everything’s going to collapse in a few years. I don’t know where people find the time for these kinds of theories._

He keyed in Mara’s code and hit _send_. She’d yet to reply to anything he sent but he didn’t take it personally. Like letting him hold her as they slept, he understood now, it was a matter of acclimation. Comfort. She would start answering when she was ready. In the meantime, she knew he was thinking of her, caring, even when they couldn’t see each other.

He’d no sooner set the device back on the desk and turned away when his official comm line pinged. Glancing at the time and then at himself, Luke walked around the desk and set his mug down out of the holo-cam’s view range. Running his fingers through still damp hair, he spared a moment to be glad he’d already mostly dressed for the day. He tapped the “accept” button.

“Skywalker.”

“Master Skywalker, I apologize for comming so early. I know it is not quite polite hours, yet.” Tethys Mar-Shaya looked apologetic.

“Commissioner.” Surprised, Luke nonetheless gave a reassuring smile. “It’s quite alright. I’m accustomed to getting comms at all hours.”

“I can imagine,” he looked thoughtful. “I am sure your schedule is most hectic, these days more so than usual. I was hoping, however, that perhaps you might spare time to meet with me this afternoon. Informally,” he added quickly. “No need for council or fuss or any of that. Just… a socialvisit, between professionals.”

Luke kept his expression neutral, despite his eyebrows’ desire to climb straight up his forehead. What could this be about? “I have an open window at 1500, if that fits your schedule,” he said, glad he’d just checked.

“That will work nicely, thank you,” Mar-Shaya said, looking relieved. “I’ll have an aide downstairs to meet you when you arrive.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” They made polite farewells, and then Luke picked up his hot chocolate again and headed for his bedroom to finish getting ready for the day. He’d have to change to a more formal tunic if this was how things were to go.

* * *

Maite Atl had come out of the Ministry of Commerce. A detail-oriented Cathar, she was known around the office for her sometimes aggressive opinions, but she was generally a stable and reliable worker. She was also unequivocally their leak. SIS had uncovered at least a dozen messages from her secure text comm account to HoloNet News’ Week in Focus editor, conveniently detailing exactly the same events and ideas that had featured in the popular political commentary segment’s scoops on the Smuggler’s Alliance.

Klinu already occupied one of the featureless wire-frame chairs in front of Mara’s desk. Maite slid into the second with the feline grace inherent to her species, her nose twitching. Idly, Mara wondered if her sense of smell clued her into what was to come.

“Maite,” Klinu began as she and Mara had decided. “Do you know why we’ve called you in?”

Maite shook her head, her ears twitching slightly. “No.”

Klinu turned over the datapad resting in her lap and handed it to Maite. The Cathar’s mane swished as her large, tawny eyes scanned down the list of incriminating comms. Mara felt her stiffen once she realized the content but she didn’t look up.

“There is an SIS officer outside the door,”Mara said. “You have five standard minutes to pack your things. He’ll see you out.”

“You have to understand —” the feline started, leaning forward intently.

“I understand,” Mara interrupted coolly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms, “that you willfully and repeatedly violated the terms of your employment.”

“They would have known anyway,” Maite’s voice was a low growl.

“And that makes it all right for you to go gossiping about it?” Klinu snapped, uncowed. “Ridiculous!”

“If beings knew the difficulties we have,” Maite fired back, “maybe —”

“Did you even read the scoop?” Klinu scowled at her, fiercely. “They made it look like we were incompetent! The Trade Bureau was —”

“Klinu.” Mara raised a hand to silence her.

“This was not sensitive information,” Maite argued, baring her teeth and tossing the data pad onto Mara’s desk with a clatter. “It’s right here in the messages that I thought Planetary Security acted too rashly — and that’s just what they put in the scoop! I was trying to help!”

“Through disloyalty?” Klinu pursed her lips and shook her head. “We strategized about Dorvalla and you didn’t mention anything — just took it straight to the media!.”

“You can tell yourself whatever you like about your motivations, Ms. Atl,” Mara cut in, flatly. “I don’t care. What matters is that Klinu and I have been consistent and explicit in our instructions that information leaves this office only through us or with our approval. Every time information leaves our hands we cede control over it — and we can’t afford to let that happen carelessly.”

It was a longstanding axiom in Karrde’s dealings. _Information isn’t yours unless you control who has it and where it can go._

“By leaking information on the Dorvalla situation to the media,” she continued, implacably, “you placed all of the power and control in their hands. That is not how this operation runs.” 

Maite’s nostrils flared as she glared at them both. “You think the media is the enemy.”

“I think the media is not positioned to do us any favors.” Mara ticked off on her fingers. “We don’t answer to it, it doesn’t pay us, and it can’t ease the restrictions and regulations we need changed. Even if it were, engaging with them wasn’t your call to make. Your employment is hereby terminated and you are required to leave the premises. The SIS officer escorting you out will collect your keycard and other sensitive materials.”

Maite stood up as if she were ready to pounce but hovered a second when Mara lifted a finger.

“Think carefully about your choices,” she said, her tone low and cool. “You won’t be getting a letter of recommendation, but if this ends here, this office won’t pursue charges, either. Make a scene and you may find yourself charged with things that make it extremely difficult to find reemployment in the public sector.”

Maitre snarled, resentment pouring off of her, but whatever her thoughts she kept them to herself. Turning her back, she straightened and stalked out of the office. Before the door slid shut, Mara caught sight of the SIS Officer she’d requested falling silently into step behind the now-former employee.

Klinu sighed and turned back from where she, too, had watched the other woman exit. “I scheduled the staff meeting for tomorrow first thing. I thought the sooner the better. I’d have scheduled it for this afternoon, but we’ve got four people out at that mandatory training session.”

Mara nodded. “Good call. I don’t want any of this lingering, but it’s better that everyone hear it at once.” She looked out to the closed door of her office. “There’s still a chance she can make big stink about this.”

“It won’t play well,” Klinu assured her, sincerely. “She’ll just come off as a disgruntled former employee — make things worse for herself, even if we don’t respond. The others will understand — we haven’t let go of anyone else. Haven’t threatened to.”

Klinu was right but Mara couldn’t shake off her unease.

“SIS only found those messages,” Klinu added, almost to herself. “There’s no indication anyone else is speaking to the media out of turn.”

That didn’t mean they didn’t want to, Mara knew. Or that they didn’t question her approach to any of the issues they’d been dealing with. But she couldn’t do anything about that, now.

“We’ll stress that anyone with ideas on anything moving forward should bring them up in-house,” Klinu continued. “It’s obvious, and I think we have a good track record of showing that we’re listening, but,” she shrugged, “some people might need a reminder.” She raised her eyes to Mara. “You need me for anything else?”

Mara shook her head. “Not at the moment. No — wait a second.” She brought up a window on her datapad. “I was going over the recent shipments last night and I noticed a lot of movement around the Splice. Things are still tight, but it’ll be to our benefit if we can find a way to move more carriers to that region in the next few days.”

“All right, I’ll get on that.” Klinu stood, retrieving the datapad Maite had tossed from the desk. She headed toward the door, then paused, saying over her shoulder, “oh, the Center for New Prosperity commed again this morning. I didn’t want to bother you with it, but they’re getting more insistent about meeting with you.”

“For credits probably.” Mara huffed. “Or because some company tapped them to see if they can pressure us to move them up the list. They commed last night too. We don’t have time for that shavit.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too,” Klinu pressed the door release. “I’ll keep blocking them. Don’t forget you have a meeting with the Trade Bureau tomorrow afternoon. I’ll remind you later.”

Mara nodded as Klinu disappeared into the outer office. The monthly check-in. She pulled out her comm. There were a couple of messages from prospective smugglers, whining about pay, and then under, another message from Luke.

_New theory: A Killik colony living in bowels of the Palace was the cause of the tragedy._

Mara sighed. That really was a new one as far as outlandish theories went. Killiks hadn’t been sighted in the known galaxy for a millennia.

Before she knew it she’d snapped off a response:

_That would explain the hallucinations, now wouldn’t it? The fact no one actually claims to have seen a Killik might be a tiny problem. Or not._

* * *

On the mag-lev to the Uscru District, Luke fished his comm out of his pocket. For a second, he stared at it in disbelief. _She’d text-commed back._ His flash of delight was interrupted by the chime indicating his stop, but his happiness made his steps a little more buoyant as he followed the directions he’d looked up to the nondescript cloudcutter housing the Commissioners and their staffs.

He entered mid-level and followed the flow of beings toward the turbo lifts. He offered his identicard to the Paaerduag in a Sec uniform screening beings entering the lifts, but was waved off.

“That’s plenty of ID, isn’t it?” Its second head blinked four eyes at him in an oddly asynchronous pattern as it waved a long, two-fingered hand at the lightsaber at his belt. “Master Skywalker.”

“I suppose it is.” He forced a smile, nodded politely, and pocketed his identicard as he stepped into the lift.

_Someday,_ he wanted to say, _it won’t be._ Someday Jedi would be a common sight across Coruscant again. Someday a lightsaber wouldn’t be a curiosity, but a comfort — a reminder to the people that the Jedi walked among them, guarding. Protecting. He stifled a sigh. That dream felt more distant by the day.

Two dozen levels up, he squared his shoulders and stepped out of the lift. Striding to the reception desk, he was greeted by a cheerful Bettie-Bot who led him down the hall and to the left.

“Commissioner Mar-Shaya is expecting you. Please go right in!”

“Master Skywalker, thank you for coming.” Mar-Shaya rose from behind his wide quasiwood desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He gestured toward a long, low sofa in a muted shade of green along the square industrial windows that lined the short exterior wall of his office.

“It was kind of you to invite me, Commissioner.” Luke sank onto the sofa, angling his body to face his host and folded his hands in his lap, leaving the way open for the Mar-Shaya to take the lead. Leia would have been proud… or tempted to kill him for coming without council.

“I wish to start by saying that there is only one recording device in this office, Master Skywalker, and I have turned it off. I am most sincere in seeking your unguarded thoughts.”

That was interesting.

“You have no doubt heard,” Mar-Shaya continued, his brows knitting, “about the conflicting proposals to establish memorials at the Temple. Many families of those lost in the recent Incident wish to have their loved ones remembered there.”

“And Karmic Balance wishes to erect one to the Jedi lost to Order 66,” Luke nodded. “There’s controversy over both, I understand.”

“Yes,” Mar-Shaya sighed, aggrieved. “I appreciate that the New Republic has asked you to restrain your comments on the subject in public. My fellow commissioners and I are not unsympathetic to your situation, you know, and there are those among us who believe Karmic Balance is not without merit in arguing that the Jedi were our neighbors. But emotions run high on all fronts. More and more there is controversy where civil, thoughtful consideration is needed.” He leaned forward slightly, radiating sincerity. “New Republic standard lines aside, do you personally believe that this attempt to establish a Jedi memorial at the Temple is in the people’s best interest?”

“No.” Luke pursed his lips and considered his words. “The Old Order was a part of Coruscant. This was their home. They were raised here, lived and worked here — _died_ here for a thousand years. I would like to see that history restored. See people reminded that the Jedi were their neighbors for generations before the Emperor — before the war warped and twisted everything.” He shook his head. “But now is not the time.”

Mar-shaya tilted his head, seeming… relieved, almost.“You think it is appropriate to remember those lost in the recent tragedy instead.”

“I think it is critical not to conflate the two.” His voice turned fervent. “The Jedi are not avenging gods, Chairbeing. There are no spirits lurking at the Temple waiting to be appeased by gestures and sacrifices to their memories.” He frowned. “My options are, as you noted, limited at the moment. But I must do whatever I can to stop the idea that Jedi were — or still are — beings to be feared. I would like there to be a memorial of some kind, someday. Good beings were lost, and it is only by acknowledging and remembering what happened that we can prevent such tragedies from happening again.” He gestured. “But the Purge was its own tragedy. Coruscant must heal from its newest grief before it can rightly turn to its past and address older, buried wounds.”

Mar-Shaya was quiet a moment. “I appreciate your candor, Master Skywalker. You share these thoughts with the Chancellor Mothma and her team, I presume?”

“I do,” Luke said, working to keep his perpetual frustration out of his voice. “But they have many factors to consider. My opinions do not always sway their choice of action.”

Mar-Shaya favored him with a small, empathetic and slightly wry smile. “It would seem that being a Jedi is like not unlike my own position, then. A great weight of responsibility wielded within a much smaller box than most sentients perceive.”

Luke smiled. “That about sums it up,” he agreed.

“May I inquire about more one thing, while you’re here?”

“Please.”

“I am not sure if you are aware, but the Commission has secured permission to visit the Temple — alongside New Republic officials, of course — as part of our investigation.”

“I had heard that was a possibility. I wasn’t aware it went through.”

“Word came in just yesterday afternoon.” Mar-Shaya peered at him curiously. “It might be a bit short notice, but we would like you to part of the delegation that attends. Some of my colleagues noted in Doctor Tharen’s testimony however, that there may be some manner of… imprint, if you will, on the site. Not to be presumptuous, but we’ve no desire to cause you any sort of…. psychic distress. If you prefer to decline…”

“I’d like to go.” Luke paused. “It… will not be a pleasant experience,” he said, carefully. “There are echoes. Stains, in the Force. But I can manage, and it’s important. I appreciate your consideration.”

“Yes, well,” Mar-Shaya rose, and Luke stood with him. The Chairbeing paced to his desk. “We, too, as I’m sure you understand, are rather stifled in what we may say publicly at this time. But I assure you that most of the Commission holds out hope that you will prove willing to rebuild the Jedi in such a way that they are, in fact, Coruscant’s neighbors and allies in the future.” Sliding open a drawer, he pulled three familiar leather-bound books from its depths.

“Ben’s journals.” Luke’s eyes flicked to the Chairbeing’s face in surprise.

“It came to my attention that you requested them back some time ago.” Mar-Shaya smiled, slightly. “I was able to convince [Precinct Chief] that they were no longer relevant as evidence.” He walked back toward Luke and held them out. “Please consider their return a sign of good faith, from the whole of the Commission.” His expression grew grave, once more. “We all seek the same healing, Master Skywalker. However painful and contentious we find the path toward it.”

* * *

“As I’m sure most of you are already aware, Maite Atl is no longer with us.”

Mara let her gaze roam around the table, intentionally making eye contact with each member of her staff as she spoke. The SA didn’t rate its own conference room yet but this discussion was too important to cover in the brisk, stand-up morning meeting style she usually preferred. So she’d taken a page out of the old Imperial handbook and reserved a somber, resinwood paneled conference room ten floors above their usual office suite and sent formal text summons through the inter-office comm system requiring everyone to attend. If the expressions around the long, heavy table were anything to go by, it was having the desired effect.

“I’m not at liberty to give you complete details, but I’m going to tell you as much as I can because this is important.” She paused, her lips pressing into a hard, flat line. “It was brought to my attention recently that information was being leaked out of this office directly to the press. I asked SIS to get involved and they identified Atl as the culprit.”

Habit, so old and deeply ingrained it was more instinct than conscious thought, kept her gaze sweeping over her small staff, evaluating their body language, gauging their responses. Kaien Taknar, the Mon Cal youth who worked with contracts under Maite. Thaneo Minara, the Otolan Klinu was training for a supervisory role who led the sub-team he formed with the three Bimms overseeing the SA’s primary shipping routes. Perth Pic, the Devaronian who worked at accounts. She’d picked every one of them personally -- just as she had nearly all of the others. Did they doubt her? Had they doubted her, like Maite?

“I’m not going to sugar coat this,” she continued, sternly. “We all know the Alliance has had some...difficulties as of late. But you all signed contracts when you were hired, and those contracts were written the way they were for a reason. If you’re not happy with something, there are procedures and you need to follow them. Going to the media — to _anyone_ — without approaching me or Klinu first is like stomping on a Bizkian hornet’s nest. You won’t like the results.”

“Are you taking disciplinary action against Maite?” Pic asked, hesitantly. “A-aside from firing her, I mean.”

“No.” Mara shook her head. “It’s not worth the time, right now.”

Nevermind that even if she did approach the Judiciary for an investigation the SA was hardly the type of agency whose requests they’d prioritize responding to. Besides, they’d just want their fingers in everything, and she didn’t have time for that now. 

“Maite made her choices and reaped the consequences. What matters now,” Mara stressed, leaning forward and putting both her palms flat on the table, “is that we keep our focus where it needs to be. She paused and scanned around the room again, making sure she had everyone’s undivided attention. “This agency exists because the New Republic needs us.”

For a moment, deja vu rippled disconcertingly at the edges of her mind. How many times had she given speeches like this? To stormtroopers? To smuggler crews? It was all the same. Clarify the mission. Make them feel important. Make the beings beside them their friends, everyone else their enemies.

“The NR cannot handle current or forecasted demand without us, no matter what the talking heads on the holonet say.” She jabbed a finger into the tabletop. “We can’t be distracted — not by politics or by the media. We’re caught enough between the Trade Bureau and our carriers — we can’t afford to turn on each other, besides. We need to keep our heads down and do our jobs. We keep shipments moving as smoothly as possible and we’ll buy ourselves the breathing room we need — it’s just a matter of time.”

It was. It had to be. She squared her shoulders and added something from Karrde’s playbook as added insurance. “You were chosen for this office because you’re good at what you do,” she reminded her staff, strategically softening her tone just a little. “If you have suggestions, Klinu and I want to hear them.” She waited.

After a moment, a Chadra-Fan in the back -- Kenka Zoler, who she’d stolen from NR Finance, spoke up. “When can we expect the Bureau ease their restrictions?”

Mara straightened. “I don’t know. If we show them we can keep things running without any other incidents we can keep putting pressure on them, but they’ve been vague about the timeline.”

“We could reach out to the companies,” Sim Thont, one of the contract specialists, suggested thoughtfully, tapping at her beak. “Tell them that we could speed things up if the Bureau eased up.” She nodded at Mara. “What you do with the Senators.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Klinu spoke up for the first time, nodding encouragingly. “I think we’ve told them, but repeating it each time we get a shipment through might be more effective. Make it part of protocol.”

It couldn’t hurt and positive reinforcement was a powerful tool. “Let’s do that,” Mara agreed, slanting her tone toward a crisp decisiveness aimed at inspiring confidence. “See if that pushes things along more with the Bureau. Anything else?”

When no one else broke the silence, Mara picked up her data pad. “All right. We all have work to do. Remember that you can come to me or Klinu directly, any time. If you have ideas, concerns — anything — you know where to find us. Everyone’s dismissed.”

As her staff began to file out, Kaien Taknar paused, then veered toward Mara. She couldn’t help but stiffen. She turned toward him, though, made herself catch his gaze as best she could. Whatever he had to say, she wasn’t going to back down from it. 

“I honestly didn’t know she’d done this,” he told her softly, flippers twisting in front of him. “I had no idea.”

Taken aback, Mara cocked her head.

“I wouldn’t talk to the media,” he added.

Shavit. Had she pressed too hard? Her staff was all civilians, not troopers or smugglers. If they thought she was on a witch hunt — 

“SIS didn’t uncover evidence of anyone else,” Mara told him, firmly. She glanced over at Klinu who was speaking with one of the Bimms. “And I wouldn’t have suspected anyone either. That’s not how I run this agency. We work on trust.”

“No, I know,” he conceded, seeming relieved.“I just...we worked on the same things, I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I felt like her.”

Mara felt her brows draw together as she parsed that. “That the media could pressure the Bureau?”

He nodded.

“Do you?”

“Not after I saw the scoop.” He seemed to catch himself and hastened to add, “Not that I’d go against our policy.”

“That’s the thing with the media,” Mara shook her head, frowning. “You never know where they’re going to take anything. Better to keep things in-house than take the risk.”

“I understand...and I know why Maite had to go. I just…” He moved his domed head side to side, the Mon Cal equivalent of a shrug.

“I’m not holding anyone responsible but her,” Mara ventured, cautiously. “If that’s what you’re worried about. You have enough work without having to worry about what a colleague is up to. I’d like you to focus on the work. That’s what I’d like everyone to focus on. No matter what comes at us from outside. Our best weapon against anything is results.”

She still sensed some worry from him. “I think that Maite was anxious about the budget,” he said hesitantly. “There’s rumors a lot of agencies will get cut. Not that it makes it okay to go against policy.”

For a second she thought back to Karrde, soon shook her head. “The New Republic needs us. They couldn’t cut us even if they wanted to.” Even though some ignorant as kriff Senators did want to. “

Taknar relaxed. “Yeah, they can’t handle any Outer Rim shipping without us. I just, uh, wanted to let you know, just in case.”

“I appreciate that.” She summoned a smile. “And I’m sorry the workload is going to be higher until we find a replacement. Whatever you feel too overwhelmed to tackle send it along to Klinu and me. We’ve dealt with a lot of shavit this quarter. We’ll figure out a way to weather this too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I find conspiracy theories in the GFFA a source of unending joy.
> 
> (2) Paaerduags are fascinating.
> 
> (3) Bettie-bots are amazing and should appear in fic more often.
> 
> (4) I have a lot of Feelings about Mara as a manager and about her working relationship with Klinu. I also have a lot of Feelings about people like Mar-Shaya who are legit doing their best but very much trapped by the circumstances and conflicting desires and responsibilities, just like Luke.


	17. Ch 16

The delegation departed from the Uscru District in a Clone Wars era LAAT/i gunship that had long since been repurposed by a planetary sightseeing company. Donated for the trip by the Coruscant Merchant’s Guild’s Hospitality Division, the gunship featured extensive remodels that made it far more comfortable than Luke imagined it would have been in the days when his father and Ben rode them into battle. The armored side doors and aft cargo door had been replaced by crystal-clear sheets of transparisteel that came halfway up the side of the frame. The top half was left open, save for the safety magshield that shimmered faintly blue without keeping out sound or smell, giving an immersive, almost 360-degree view of their surroundings as the small party approached the boundary of the quarantined Palace District.

They intentionally flew at a crawl — nearly walking pace — to allow plenty of time for the Temple Superintendent to narrate the damage around them when they passed into the Incident Zone. Two klicks out, Luke felt a swell in the Force that brought him to his feet, his knees bumping the curved window, the safety shield flickering warning as his shoulder brushed it. 

“Jedi Skywalker?”

It was a question, but Luke didn’t know how to answer. Wasn’t sure he could around the lump in his throat. Grief lodged in his chest, and dizzy mix of hope, desperation, and determination whirled around his head.

“Chairbeing —” The CSF guide gestured out the front windscreen.

Luke’s eyes flicked toward his hand, found the source of the emotion even as they passed into it.

Beings lined the walkways at the edge of the Uscru District. They stood, eerily quiet for their numbers, holographic banners hovering over their heads. In their outstretched palms, many held portable holo emitters, the small blue figures bright in the gloom of day.

“Answers!” One being, invisible in the crowd, shouted breaking the stillness. “We deserve answers!”Others took up the cries, strident agony tearing through the Force with their voices. “Tell us!”

“Master Skywalker!”

Luke’s heart wrenched at the sound of his name, cried out as a plea. He scanned the line of beings, edged right up against the railings of the walkways, searching.

“Master Skywalker!”

There. “Turn off the magshield.”

The Guide looked at him, startled. “That’s not —”

“Turn it off.”

The guide flailed slightly but the pilot must have heard, because the shield dissolved. Luke took two steps back, then launched himself out of the gunship. The crowd drew back as he arced toward them — all save one, who waited bravely where he stood, his heart on his sleeve. With the Force as his ally, it was nothing for Luke to land in a neat crouch before the man. He was human, older, and he reached for Luke as he rose smoothly, both hands clutching at the Jedi’s arms.

“Master Skywalker,” his voice was plaintive, his face taut. “Why would your apprentice do this? Is it true the ghosts of those killed on these steps decades ago made him — used him, to get their revenge for our — for what we let happen?”

Luke braced his hand under the man’s elbow, tried to project surety and comfort. It felt like shining a penlamp into Dagobah’s murk.

“I don’t know why this happened.” The truth of it made his chest tight. How could he explain to these grieving families that he’d been there and still didn’t understand it all? He held the man’s eyes, squeezed his arm gently, steadyingly. “But we’re doing everything we can to find out. To understand.” He flicked his gaze to the larger crowd, called on the Force to lift his voice, carry it out across them. “It is no secret the Temple is full of ghosts, and there is much we do not yet know about what happened here. But one thing I know for sure — the Jedi who fell here played no part in this. They bear you no ill will. Coruscant — the Temple — this was their home. They want only good for it now, just as they did when they lived.”

Dropping his voice, Luke turned back to the man who still clung to him, compassion softening his posture. “What’s your name?”

“Makru, Master.”

“Who did you lose, Makru?”

The man’s face crumpled and his voice became a croak. “My son. Lassius.”

He let go of Luke with one hand to fumble in a pocket, pulling out a tiny holo emitter and lifting it between them. The flickering image of a young man, tall and lanky as a willow, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted a diploma from Coruscant University in one hand and a job contract stamped Imperial Palace Building Ops in the other.

“He was an engineer,” Markru’s eyes glistened, his shaky smile proud. “Grew up on his grandfather’s stories of working in the Temple, the honor of keeping its marvels. Only thing he ever wanted to do. He — he hoped to find a place with the Order when it settles again.”

“I’m so sorry.” Luke dipped his head. “We’d have been honored to have him. As I am sure the Palace was — I know my sister is grateful every day for the people who make the building work so that she can do her work in service to the galaxy.”

Makru nodded, swallowed hard. “Will you take this?” He pushed the holo emitter at Luke. “We’re not allowed in, and no one is being allowed to place any more of these, but — but he loved that place, Master Skywalker. He deserves be in its halls — deserves to be seen in them. Remembered, where he invested so much.”

Luke folded his hands over the emitter. “I will.”

There was a hum behind him — the gunship, gliding in close.

“Master Skywalker.” It was Mar-Shaya’s voice, low and respectful. Apologetic. “Forgive me, but we must continue.”

Luke squeezed Makru’s hands once more, and lifted his eyes to the wide-eyed throng behind him. “We will find answers,” he promised, lifting his voice once more. “You have my word as a Jedi. But I beg your patience. I learned the hard way as a General in the war that speaking too soon — identifying the wrong causes — costs more lives instead of saving them. Give us — all of us — room and time to serve you as you deserve to be served. As those we have all lost deserve.”

Stepping back, he turned. The transparisteel slid aside and he half-stepped, half-jumped onto the gunship’s deck, Makru’s emitter still in his hand. He resumed his place on the bench, the ship quiet but humming with silent energy around him. The crowd, too, seemed change. They did not chant, now, but held their emitters aloft in wordless witness to the lives lost.

It felt… like trust, and like crushing weight on his shoulders. They were willing to extend a little more time, a little more patience… but they did deserve answers. Answers he didn’t have or wasn’t allowed to give.

* * *

“So you can see that the movement is beginning to concentrate on [sector], which is why we’ve started clustering our carriers there,” Mara finished, gesturing at the holomap in front of her with its conglomerations of moving dots. “Unfortunately that means our shipments outside the [x] have slowed down as we move carriers to those sectors upon request.”

Zorrel leaned back on his seat nodding. “How are the recruitment efforts coming along?”

Irritation sparked but Mara sublimated it, refusing to let it show — that would only make things worse, right now. “Slow,” she said tersely, then added pointedly. “The security checks continue to be our greatest hurdle.”

The holoprojector shut down with a subtle click and [x] pairs of eyes set on Mara.

“We have been in discussions about how to address that, Liaison,” [someone else from last time] said, leaning forward. “There is funding that could be allotted to new carriers for choosing to undergo the checks. Would that be proper incentive?”

Not as good as just getting rid of the checks altogether. Mara bit her tongue and turned the idea over in her head, trying to consider it on its own merits.

“It’s... problematic,” she finally said, as diplomatically as possible. “Existing carriers took a big risk signing on with the Alliance in the first place. They’ll resent incentives that they didn’t get being offered to new recruits who will benefit from the work they’ve already put in getting the SA established.”

In the smuggling world, risks had to rewarded or they wouldn’t be taken again. She definitely didn’t need to spend even more hours of her days listening to her core carriers grouse and complain about being cheated… but they did need more people. Enough that she couldn’t afford to turn down anything that would help her get them.

“Incentives might help recruitment in the long run,” she allowed, reluctantly, but couldn’t resist adding, “ — but what truly would help is easing the checks.”

Zorrel shook his head. “Not right now.” Mara opened her mouth to press the point but he lifted a hand. “We see the data and the questionnaires, but we are still not distant enough from the Talasea and Dorvalla incidents to proceed with even a partial repeal.”

Mara made herself nod. Something was better than nothing, she told herself. So, fine, it felt like running in place. But she wasn’t losing any more ground, and at this point that was something. “If you send me the specifics of what’s available, I’ll see what I can do with it.”

“Good. We’ll look forward to your proposal for how incentives might be structured. ” Zorrel directed himself to the rest of the table. “That was the last item on the agenda. Meeting adjourned.” He met Mara’s eye and gestured to the seat beside him. “A word, Liaison?”

Mara’s stomach clenched as she rose smoothly and made her way around the table. What now? Things were going better and there hadn’t been any incidents. There shouldn’t be anything for him to give her a scolding over this time.

Zorrel said nothing when she slid into the seat beside him, waiting for all the other beings to leave before he turned to her and lowered his voice. “It came to my attention that you called SIS this week.”

“Yes, the matter of the leak,” she replied, her nerves settling. That was over and done with. “We plugged it.”

“Good, I had hoped that was it. I trust we will have no more incidents of that nature.”

“SIS didn’t find any evidence of anyone else speaking to the press or handling information inappropriately. I addressed my staff about it, and everyone is clear on acceptable and unacceptable behavior.”

“You’ve moved slower on this than I would like,” Zorrel mused, his mouth moueing. Mara fought the urge to snap a retort. “But,” he continued, “I understand that the Smuggler’s Alliance has faced quite a few challenges. What matters now is that you were prompt in identifying and addressing that leak and ensuring it won’t happen again.”

His tone suggested he’d hold her personally responsible if it did. Mara swallowed her irritation and forced a tight smile. “We continue to progress at the fastest rate our circumstances allow, Director.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

She wanted to slap him but breathed through it. He was pleased. That was good. That was what she needed to focus on. She pushed back her chair. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She rose.

“Oh — I received a very complimentary comm from Senator Jensaar.”

Mara paused, her eyes flicking back to Zorrel’s face.

“I don’t need to stress,” he said mildly, “how helpful the good word of senators could be in easing the security checks your carriers so despise. It’s quite wise of you to be personally seeing to clients’ satisfaction. He tipped his head, an odd little half-smile twitching on his thin lips. “Good day, Liaison.”

* * *

The atmosphere on the gunship was stiflingly awkward when Luke sank back into his seat. Approval bumped against his awareness, mixed in a strangely hued jumble of resentment, uncertainty, sadness, and determination as the Commissioners grappled with the scene he’d just unintentionally caused for the few moments it took to pass through the rest of the crowd.

When they reached the security cordon, manned by droids, the Palace Superintendent cleared his throat, mumbled, found his footing, coughed, and started again.

“This is the outer edge of the Incident Zone,” he announced, waving. “As you can see to port —”

Luke listened, some part of him taking in the words as they progressed, but it felt surreal. Like walking under water, everything thick, pressure pressing in on all sides. He saw the damage, mentally cataloged the estimated causes — cracks in meter-thick duracrete from the groundquake, walls pocked with the scorch of small arms fire where a CSF team had been forced to defend themselves from crazed office workers wildly wielding improvised weapons.

But it was the holos that felt like a blow. Family groups, and no doubt some determined individuals sneaking past the security perimeter, had planted portable emitters like the one he still held in his lap throughout the Palace. Everywhere they turned, Luke was confronted with a ghastly contrast.

The holo of a sweet young Bimm in a breezy summer dress smiled up at him from in front of a monument he didn’t recognize. From beneath the rubble atop which the emitter sat, a stain expanded in the Force, terror and pain. A terrible death.

Around the corner, a Snivvian beamed out of a holo around the heads of two younglings he cuddled. The whole corridor smelled of madness and Luke’s ears rang with the screams, making his stomach churn. On another level, unnatural hunger made his stomach twist as he passed through a doorway, and Luke swallowed against the sudden urge to wretch, his mind going to the old Rodian woman who ate her would-be rescuer.

Doctor Tharen’s words haunted him.

_It was recorded that Anakin Skywalker could hear the screams of the injured and dying in the hangar while investigating, even days after the attack._

How had his father walked these halls?

If he’d heard them, after the Temple bombing, what had he heard after the Purge? After he slaughtered his fellow Jedi — younglings — with his own hand? How had he walked these halls for twenty years with their ghosts at his heels?

 _Later,_ he told himself, numbly. _You can think about that later._

He took a deep, slow breath, the Temple air still thick with duractete dust and the acrid burn of spilled chemicals as he counted to four. He held it inside his lungs for another four-count, as if he could hold the spirits of those lost there, too. Recognize them. Honor them, as a Jedi should honor all life. He breathed out, an equally slow release. _Be at peace._

They were not here. The victims. Their suffering, however strong, was only a stain. Only an echo. A warning, perhaps. Their luminousness had passed onto the Force. Beyond the pain of the tragedy.

But that was those who’d passed on. For the living, it was different. Here and there, older, fainter impressions registered. The shadows of those killed in the Purge, or lost to accident or attack even before that. The Temple was ancient and it had a long memory. Layers and layers of life and death clung to its walls, amplifying the massive stain splattered across its halls from the most recent tragedy. It all soaked into Luke as he passed, smearing across his sense like the blood and soot of a fresh battlefield.

Memory has its own weight.

Over and over, Luke willed one foot in front of the other. Willed his breath to keep circulating, in and out. Willed his shoulders not to bow under the enormous weight of loss and anger that suffused the air. Every step was a fresh wound. Another tiny slice, reducing his awareness to isolation, desolation, and a bone-deep ache.

Why? Why had this happened? What could they do — what could _he_ do? So very little these days, it felt.

Another step. Ben had survived decades alone in the desert after losing everything. This was nothing by comparison. Luke could do this. Another step. Another slice against his bleeding sense. Just a little longer. Another step.

* * *

“Liaison!”

Two steps into the outer office, Mara suppressed a wave of foreboding. Settling her expression into a calm mask, she turned brisk steps toward Klinu’s desk. “Yes?”

“Have you seen this?” Klinu smiled brightly, her fingers flying over a small control panel. A holo appeared over her desk.

“No new endeavor is without its bumps and growing pains,” Senator Jensaar was telling a holo reporter. “Certainly the Smugglers’ Alliance has had its share, as recent reports have covered in detail. However,” he continued, seriously, “it has also provided an invaluable service to the New Republic since its founding by my dear friend Senator Tevv. Without the SA’s services, you know, many worlds and even entire regions within our Republic would be difficult or almost impossible to reach with commercial goods due to lingering challenges resulting from the Imperial Exodus after the reclamation of Coruscant.”

In spite of herself, Mara’s heart fluttered. Her eyes flicked to the logo in the bottom right corner of the holo feed. HoloNet News was the primary news channel of the elite on planet — across the Core, even. 

On the feed, Jensaar shook his large head disapprovingly. “We are not the Old Republic, and we will not exclude our own. I appreciate my colleague’s calls to restore shipping through primary channels, naturally, but in the meantime, we remain indebted to the… nontraditional carriers of the Alliance for their invaluable assistance.”

Klinu muted the sound, beaming. “The staff is thrilled,” she confided, proud as a parent whose child has just tied its boot laces for the first time. “To see our work publicly lauded. I thought,” she glanced furtively over her shoulder, then back to Mara. “I thought maybe I’d order up some sweet biscuits.” Her inflection lifted slightly on the end, her eyes searching Mara’s face for approval. “To celebrate.” Her lips quirked, mischievously. “They won’t cost much — I can hide them in the office supplies budget.”

Is that what people do? Mara wondered, distractedly. Get sweet snacks when something goes well? Klinu thought so, and she trusted her judgment. “Yes, do that. Thanks.”

“Do you want to say anything to them, when they arrive?” Klinu asked, already reaching for her comm.

“No, that’s all right. You should, though.” Mara nodded at her. “I know you’ll say the right thing.”

Klinu smiled again, obviously pleased by the vote of confidence, and Mara retreated to her office while Klinu opened a line and started the order. Sinking into her chair, Mara stared at the data pads on her desk, aware of a flutter in her chest. It… had been a long time, since she’d felt that way. Proud. Pleased. Hopeful.

 _Not that long,_ her mind prompted. She felt her cheeks heat. Fine, so Skywalker made her feel that way. But that was different.

Skywalker. Her eyes flicked unbidden toward her comm unit. He hadn’t returned her comm. Maybe she’d thrown him off by answering? But he’d wanted her to if she was comfortable, he’d been clear on that. _Stop it,_ she scolded herself. _He’s not obligated._

He wasn’t. It was ridiculous and childish to be disappointed at the simple lack of a comm, for kriff’s sake. They both knew what this was, and he was busy. Just like she was. Neither of them had time for nonsense.

Still… she was happy, and that was rare. And for once, everything was actually under control. Her staff was in line, the Trade Bureau had offered her resources she could use, and the SA had finally gotten some small measure of the public recognition it deserved. It wasn’t wrong to celebrate. The Emperor had used to make her celebrate, sometimes. Made her take days off, ordered her to do something recreational.

Mara ran her tongue over her bottom lip, felt her cheek twitch. Doing Skywalker would _very_ recreational. And he _had_ given her a key. Warmth pooled in her belly and she impulsively keyed up a search window on her data pad. What was that place he’d wanted to try? She could take dinner. Grab some wine on the way over. Let herself in. She imagined his smile, that sunny farm boy look he got when he was happy. The heat in her core spread, her stomach anticipation amplifying the satisfaction fluttering in her stomach. It would be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who has been in a relationship and experienced one of those days where you and your partner are in polar opposite moods/life situations can guess how well next chapter is going to go....


	18. Ch 17

The gunship left the Commissioners, their security detail, and Luke back at the Uscru district a little before sundown. The mood between them was solemn. They might have left the Palace but it had left its imprint. You didn’t have to be Force-sensitive to be affected by the sense of loss that permeated the atmosphere.

Luke felt it like a lump in his throat, like a vice around his chest. Like sinking. 

He thought of Makru, whose son’s holo he’d left on the northeast part of the building. To do only that felt like so little, but he had no idea what else he could have done. What else he could do. He’d taken his leave from the party and gone by foot across the elevated walkways towards [Green Park](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Coruscant_Green_Park/Legends) at the border between the Uscru district and the Financial District.

It had been _his_ apprentice. His apprentice who had found him lacking and turned elsewhere. His apprentice who he’d failed to teach enough to turn away from his darker impulses. Who he’d failed to know well enough.

The sun had set by the time he arrived and sat on one of the benches under the wide trees. Younglings were leaving the park calling out to friends as they left in groups of two and fours for their respective homes, younger ones in tow of parents or older siblings. The city was large enough that what happened at the temple might not have affected them, and there was something comforting about that, but the feeling of plunging down, of falling from a great height didn’t lessen.

There had been so many. So many he couldn’t account for, answer for, and it felt startlingly different from the weight he’d borne before. It’d been war then, tragic but not unexplainable. But this made a mockery of peacetime.

And it’d been his fault.

Leia hadn’t seen it this way, but she hadn’t been here and it hadn’t been her apprentice. He could understand why she had to look past this, even if he couldn’t comprehend how. Leia believed in Jedi, believed in them as peacekeepers even if she hadn’t seen it in her lifetime. She believed in him, too, though he didn’t think he’d given her much to go on, not as far as founding a New Jedi Order was concerned. Maybe her belief was rooted in the work he’d done for the Rebellion, against Thrawn. But when all was said and done, was that an indication that he should be founding a new Order? Was her belief in him rooted in her love for him?

That was no basis. He had no doubt Ben had loved his father, and he’d thought he’d loved Kyp too. He thought he’d made it clear, and it should have been enough on both counts. It hadn’t been.

Sometimes it felt like love counted for so little.

The greenery in front of him had emptied out save for a group of older younglings, teenagers huddled together talking in the distance, and several couples walking hand in hand. He believed in Jedi, too. He’d wanted to pass on what he’d learned, and yet how to account for this enormous loss of life? Error alone felt disrespectful. Inadequate when he knew it wasn’t a simple twist of fate. If he’d chosen otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened.

Discomfiting as that knowledge was, it was worse to wonder if he could truly guarantee it wouldn’t happen again.

Luke thought of the Jedi padawan behind the bombing, Barriss Offee. Tharen had given him documents but they gave little information about her. A grainy holo from the HoloNet showed her as a slight hooded figure, a wash of Mirialan tattoos across her nose and cheeks. Her master, Luke had found, had been Luminara Unduli, whose likeness he’d found in old documents -- another Mirialan with tattoos running down her chin. He wondered how Master Unduli had felt seeing her own apprentice on trial. Had she struggled with her own hand in what Offee had done?

Had she wondered if she had been the master Offee needed? Had she wondered if she could be better for Offee’s sake...and for everyone else as well?

Had she wondered if it wasn’t too much to risk?

But Master Unduli couldn’t answer him now. No one could. That kind of loneliness felt like staring at starlines for too long, your stomach coiling up, your sense of place gone, that frightening thought becoming a swift reality: you’d lost your destination, and now there was only endless, pointless movement across the dark of space.

Luke lurched himself off the bench. He would stay with Kyp just as Unduli had stayed with her apprentice. He would use precedent, his own goodwill, his history personal and otherwise — anything to keep Kyp safe. And even if Luke didn’t know where he’d erred he’d endeavor to do better, to be more vigilant. This was all he could do.

He took the mag lev back on auto-pilot, his feelings heavy with the inadequacy of his response. Tomorrow he’d command see if he could set up an appointment to talk to the head physician personally, he thought as he walked to his apartment. Even if Kyp declined to see him at least Luke could still push them to tell Kyp he was there. He’d keep pushing, reminding him that he was there, and that he only had his best interests. Luke input his code. He might not be able to solve any of this, but at least he’d make sure Kyp knew he wasn’t alone, no matter what he’d done. That he could always reach out to him. They’d bear the weight of this together somehow.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Luke left his cloak and bag, and ambled over to the kitchen where Mara was setting out plates, not a stitch of clothing on.

She greeted him with a saucy smile and a tilt of her head. “You mentioned Solsol a while back. Turns out they do take out too.”

It was surprise that made him freeze. He hadn’t sensed her at all and, while he took in all that creamy skin on display, it was her expression that struck him.

Mara’s smile was open and buoyant, utterly breathtaking, she moved towards him with light steps. “I didn’t know,” her voice lowered into a purr, “if you’d be hungry now or later.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips sealing with his. By now his arms knew to fold around her, and he followed her kiss well enough.

He still felt as if he were sinking.

Luke drew away gently.She was in his arms, naked, and clearly in high spirits. If there was any moment to compartmentalize this should be it. He summoned a smile, ran his hand down her naked side, irritated that all he felt was a distant flicker of interest. The skin under his hands felt warm and soft. If he held her to him, if he pressed his cheek against her chest, would he feel less adrift?

Mara stretched a little, her hips curving, the movement of her body making her designs clear, and his heart sank even further. Why tonight out of all nights?

“Why don’t we eat first?” Maybe by then he’d realign and somehow tonight wouldn’t end with her running out like the wind. He couldn’t think of a worse end to the trying day. “I wouldn’t want you to pass out again.”

Some unease passed through her features. He’d never been good at lying, but she lifted a shoulder carelessly and went for a wine glass. “Suit yourself.”

“It’s not every day that there’s a beautiful naked woman in my kitchen,” he said uncorking the wine. “You can’t blame me for trying to appreciate the moment.”

She arched an eyebrow and offered her wine glass. “Appreciate the moment? Terrible lines, Luke. That mix of flirting and Jedi speak goes about as well as [some terrible food combination].”

He laughed as he filled her glass. “You seem like you’re in a good mood. Thought it would slide.”

Her smile was coy. “That you’d get lucky anyway?”

He felt his smile tighten. “Yeah. I’m glad you remembered,” he gestured to the food, “I was curious. Seafood, right?”

“Mon Cal chef,” she added, sitting down. “The reviews say it’s authentic.” He caught her eyes flitting down to herself and the table.

He leaned down to brush a strand of her hair back. “I do want to look at you, but if you feel odd…”

She smirked. “Are you implying I should put my clothes back on, Skywalker?”

“Never,” he retorted, lowering a hand down the center of her chest, willing some reaction into himself. He curved his hand over her breast. Mara’s shoulders rolled back a little as she pressed herself into his palm with a sigh. His stomach knotted. This wasn’t fair to her. At all.

He withdrew his hand to cup her face briefly. Time. All he needed was time. They could just talk while they ate and after, he’d be back to himself.He brushed his lips against hers, brought a hand to her back when she kissed him again, an engulfing, intense kiss that again he could only follow. She moved away with that same flicker in her eyes that told him she knew.

“Let me get you the robe,” he murmured, and a part of him expected that she’d come to his room after him, making a line to her clothes, folded neatly atop the bedside table.

“Wait,” he said quickly. “We just need —”

“It’s completely fine, Luke,” she replied in a blank tone as she yanked on her underwear in a rush. “I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“What? No. I want you to say. Please stay, just hear me out.”

She turned around. Her face had lost her previous radiance. “It’s fine,” she repeated, nodding. “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand. Things burn bright and fast and then —”

“What?”

Mara waved a hand. “You can get bored of people —”

“No! Bored? No.” He shook his head with a laugh. He shouldn’t have done that because her embarrassment spread. “It’s me, I —”

“Oh, please.” She walked out. “Not that.”

“Mara!” Frustration made him raise his voice. Surprised, she stopped for long enough that he could blurt out, “I went to the Palace today. With the Commission. Inside it.”

She didn’t turn around but just her stopping was enough for him to continue. “The Palace Superintendent took us. Showed us where beings died. There was a crowd outside. I — I talked with a man. His name was Makru and his son had died there. He gave me his son’s holo,” he didn’t think any of what he was saying was coming out well, but he didn’t feel like he could stop any of it, “I took it inside. His son was called Lassius. He’d been an engineer. Proud to work there.”

Luke rubbed a hand over his face. “The Palace, it — well you’ve been there, right? When we met up again. It feels like that. But worse. Inside. And there’s —” Luke stopped himself. The last thing Mara would want to hear about was Kyp. She hadn’t come for this. Any of it. You couldn’t just throw your problems at someone.Not something like this. He swallowed. “I’m sorry. My head’s just not…”

She stayed where she was for long enough that he found himself trying again. It reeked of desperation. “I don’t want you to go.”

He shut his eyes. That was it. That was all he’d allow himself to say.

* * *

She should leave.

It had been stupid to come in the first place. He hadn’t commed her back — any di’kut should have clued in that there would be a reason. Blind of her not to put to the pieces together — a kriffing novice mistake. Force. How over-eager had she looked, jaunting naked around his kitchen, blathering about authentic ethnic cuisine when he’d just come from the Temple? 

She would leave. He’d obviously wasn’t interested and it was fine. She understood. She did. He didn’t owe her anything. This was just part of it, right? If you stayed with the same person, there’d have to be days you didn’t want them, didn’t there? It was fine.

“I don’t want you to go.”

The words lingered in the air, Luke’s pain like an ache in her chest. It shouldn’t feel like that. Maybe it would stop, if she left. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe she’d carry it with her, spend the rest of the night aching, helplessly. She couldn’t. But if she stayed…

“I’m not…” she half-turned, gestured irritably. “I’m not going to be any use to you. I’m not good at…atwhatever you think will happen if I stay.” He should know that. He had family. Friends. Other people who were good at… things. Things she wasn’t.

“Dinner,” he said quickly, stepping toward her, his fingertips lifting to her cheek, barely touching her, as if she was fragile. “Just… just put my robe on and have dinner with me.” His hand dropped to her tunic, toyed with the fastener at her throat. This close, his anxiety was high and thready, enough that it made her throat feel tight. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “Anything — we can talk about anything you want. Just stay. Let me look at you. I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m already dressed.” Mara bit her tongue in frustration. Of all the stupid things to say —

“That’s fixable.” Luke popped the top fastener of her tunic. “There’s food,” he cajoled, making short work of the next three fasteners. “You need to eat. You never eat enough — and wine.”

She pursed her lips. She had been looking forward to drinking that wine, actually. It was one of her favorites.

“Tell me about the best seafood you’ve ever had.” It sounded rushed — desperate — but his hands were warm on her shoulders as he pushed her tunic off, and he was immediately at work on her pants, dropping into a crouch to pull them and her basics down. “Anywhere.”

This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She should snatch her clothes back and go back to her apartment. Work. This couldn’t end well. She was no good at — “stone eel.” _Kriffing hell. Shut up and go home._

“Yeah?” Luke’s tone brightened, but he stayed in front of her, using the Force to call the robe to his hand, no doubt afraid she’d lunge for her clothes if he gave her half a chance. “Where’d you have it?”

“Here,” she sighed, resigning herself as he folded the robe around her. “The Palace.” She shot a resentful look over her shoulder at the messy pile of her clothes as he grasped her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

“An event?” Luke steered her back toward her chair.

“Sort of. I’m not sure you want —”

“I do.” He nudged her down into her seat, retrieved her wine and set it firmly in front of her. “I’ve never heard of stone eel.”

Stifling a sigh, Mara picked up her glass and swirled her wine while Luke sat. He watched her expectantly — anxiously — as he took an unceremonious swig.

“It’s not usually food,” she said, bluntly, lifting her glass. She sniffed the delicate aroma of peaches and vanilla and took a tiny sip, letting the thick, sparkling liquid dance on her tongue before swallowing. Luke was still looking at her intently when she put the glass down so, with a mental shrug, she continued. “Not a lot of people know this, but there was a menagerie in the lower levels of the Palace. The Jedi started it when the space was still the Temple — or that’s what I was told, anyway.”

“Really?” Luke’s expression shifted, the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction as he picked up his eating sticks.

Skirting all the ugly rumors she’d heard about what exactly the Jedi had used the menagerie for, Mara nodded. It was strange — not sitting in Luke’s kitchen wearing nothing but his robe eating takeout, ironically enough. That was becoming weirdly familiar. But she didn’t talk about her youth. Not to anyone. Not like this. But he was eating too, now, and he needed to. _Distraction,_ she thought, determination settling in her chest. He needed a distraction — just until the wine kicked in. It wouldn’t matter what she said, even — if she got him drunk enough he wouldn’t remember tomorrow anyway. The realization did nothing to make her feel less awkward in the moment, but it loosened the knot in her stomach.

“The Emperor used it for all kinds of things.” She plucked a sushi roll off her plate with her own eating sticks. “Experiments, training, meditation.”

She watched Luke as she popped the piece in her mouth and chewed. His eyes were on her, roaming. Not over her breasts, which she’d have expected under other circumstances, but idly over the whole of her. Whatever. She didn’t have to understand. Just to talk.

“He assigned a Ho’din to oversee it,” she said, after she swallowed. “Ugly, cranky bastard. I hated him.” She snorted. “He probably hated me, too, given some of the lessons I had there. Anyway, when I was… I don’t know, 15? He did something that made the Emperor angry. I never found out exactly what.” She shook her head. “The Emperor decided he needed to be taught a lesson, so while he was out, I was sent down to catch all of the stone eel in the various menagerie waters — they were his favorite. Pet project, sort of.”

Luke cocked his head. “With a net?”

“With the Force.” She took a sip of her wine, then rolled her eyes when she realized he was staring at her, intrigued. “It wasn’t as interesting as it sounds,” she told him, flatly. “Trust me.”

“And then you cooked them?”

She actually laughed at that, short and sharp.”Hells no. I took them to the kitchens. Next time I saw them was the night after, at a banquet. I was there as a serving girl, that time — listening for Intel, passing messages. After dancing it was my favorite way to attend that kind of thing. The important thing,” she pointed her sticks at him, “was that the Menagerie Master had been invited. And his beloved stone eel were the appetizer.” Her brow scrunched. “They’d been filleted, I think. Rolled up around some kind of creamy sauce, with a sprig of something green resting on top. Beautiful.”

“But cruel.” Luke frowned as he chewed. “If he knew what they were.”

“He found out after he’d eaten one.” Mara rose, grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled both their glasses. “The Emperor made sure of that. I thought he was going to vomit in the middle of the hall.” She sat back down, picked up her final bite of seafood. “It wasn’t bad,” she mused, watching Luke finish his plate. “A little rubbery.” She hesitated. “I ate one in front of him, just because I could.”

To her astonishment, Luke smiled at her sardonically over the rim of his glass. “I might have too, at that age.” He stood up, a little abruptly. “Come on.” Scooping up the wine bottle and tucking it under his arm, he grabbed his glass with one hand and her hand with the other. “Lounge.”

Mara bit back a sharp retort about being hauled around like a sack of topatos and snatched up her glass before they were through the door.

“Tell me more about the food at the Palace,” Luke commanded, handing her toward one end of the sofa. “What you hated most.” He dropped beside her, close enough that their thighs touched and scowled as he refilled her wine, then his own. “What could possibly have been worse than ration bars?”

“Ration bars,” she informed him primly, “are perfectly good food. They’re convenient and —”

“Not food,” he interrupted, decisively. “Tell me about real food, Jade. Fancy things. Weird things.”

“I bet they eat all sorts of weird things in Tatooine. Bugs.”

He laughed, scooted closer. “Not bugs.”

“Okay, then what?”

“People think womp rats are weird,” he started with the air of someone having explained this countless times, “but —”

“Wait, womp rats?” she leaned towards him. “Like vermin?”

He waved a hand. “It’s all in how you stew them.” He thought back. “And you have to make sure they’re not diseased.”

“Stars, you are weird.”

“Not food, though.”

“You could be.” She raised an eyebrow, pointedly.

His face fell, pinched, and his grip on the wine glass tightened. She winced. “It’s not — you’re beautiful,” he stumbled over the words, one hand ducking inside the robe at her ribs, pressing as if he thought she’d push up and away from him. “I — I want —”

“Rank,” she cut in. His face screwed up in confusion. “Rank,” she repeated. “It’s — you asked what was worse than ration bars. It’s a — a paste, sort of.”

Luke relaxed. “Yeah?”

He leaned in, nuzzled her shoulder, nosing aside the robe. “Tell me.”

“It’s awful.” In spite of herself, Mara wriggled a little lower into the sofa and tipped her head. Luke burrowed deeper against her. “Slimy.”

“Mmph.”

Taking that for “keep going,” Mara searching her memory. “They serve it in buckets.”

His chuckle was a puff of warmth against her throat. “Do not.”

“I’m serious. Hey —” She caught his glass as it canted dangerously sideways, appropriated it.

“Buckets.” Freed of his glass, Luke slid onto her, his hands shoving at the robe, rucking it askew. “Exaggerating.”

“I am not!” Indignation rose. “It comes out of barrels in a — a slurry.”

“Hmm.” He sighed, inching down until his head rested at her collarbone, his arms tucking in around her. “Lies,” he mumbled against her skin, rubbing his cheek against her breasts the way Senator x’s overly affectionate office feline rubbed at her legs whenever she had the misfortune to attend meetings there. 

“Lies! No, they served it in ships. Mainly cheap transports, I think. Its only saving grace is that it had all the nutrients you need. Kind of like a ration bar, come to think of it, but the texture is terrible. Maybe it was cheaper, I’m not sure where they produced it. A lab somewhere most likely. Rank is not the type of food you actually cook, by any meaning of the word, but at least it’s not Hutt slime and diseased rats out on the edge of nowhere, Farmboy.” She took a breath expecting the obligatory quip.

All she heard was a snore.

She snuck a glance down, seeing his hair poofing around her chest. She could feel his breath soft and even on her.

_Kriffing hell._ Mara dropped her head back and let her eyes fall shut. He was asleep. On her. Like — like she was some kind of pillow. Or — what were those things his niece and nephew had in their travel carriers last time she saw them at an event? Stuffed somethings. Kashyyyki wild things of some kind in absurd colors, fluffed all out of proportion.

Five minutes. She was going to give him five minutes to realize he’d dozed off and come around, and then she’d make her excuses and take off. She spent the time surveying his apartment in detail, making note of things she’d missed before — where the controls for the lights were, subtle security measures. Signs that someone — probably Luke, or maybe someone from Organa’s staff — had removed tech fixtures recently, doubtless to upgrade their encoding and anti-hacking capacities.

At the four minute point, Mara realized she was roasting. The apartment was always warm by her standards — a fact that worked to her benefit when she was naked on her knees on Luke’s floor. Her cheeks heated at the memory, and her body reminded her petulantly that as naked as she’d been — and as half-dressed as she now was — she had not, in fact, been kriffed tonight. She shifted her hips with an unhappy sigh. Luke mumbled in his sleep and nosed himself deeper between her breasts… which did nothing at all for her unsatisfied itch and served only to press more of his desert-bred body against hers, increasing the likelihood that she would die of heatstroke in short order if she stayed put. 

At exactly five minutes from when he’d snored at her, Mara relocated both their half-empty wine glasses to the table behind her and shoved at Luke’s shoulder with the heel of her hand.

“All right, Jedi. Up.”

He snorted, jerking, and twisted to squint up at her, blearily. “M’ra?”

“Up,” she commanded again, using her best _I’m in charge here_ tone. “Bed. Now.”

“Com’fble.” He nosed at her breasts again.

Oh, no. Mara grabbed a handful of sandy hair and tugged, bringing his head back up. “I am roasting to death,” she informed him. “And I’m not your pillow. Get. Up.” To emphasize her point, she tightened her core and did a full-body roll, as she might have on a sparring mat.

Unprepared, Luke toppled straight to the floor, hands shooting out clumsily to catch himself so that he landed on all fours. “Ow!” He scowled up at her, cranky and peevish.

Unmoved, Mara swung her legs off the sofa. “Bedroom.”

“Tired.” He complained.

Rolling her eyes, Mara hooked a hand under his arm and hauled him upright. “Yeah, I noticed.” He mumbled grumpily but was pliant enough as she dragged him around the couch. “Don’t grouse at me, Jedi,” she pursed her lips as she hit the lights on their way into the bedroom, darkening the rest of the apartment and bringing up just enough illumination to see their way to the bed. “I’d planned to kriff your brains out, remember?”

Stopping beside the bed, she dragged the covers back, then set about making short work of Luke’s clothes. He swayed on his feet, obviously only half awake, if that, as she efficiently stripped him.If her hands wandered a little it only made her more aware of how the night had turned into a wash.

“I brought you food and my favorite wine,” she lectured, scowling at his sleepy face as she pulled his undertunic over his head.

He sighed when she dropped to her knees and peeled him out of everything below the waist, his hand drifting over her hair. For a second she held her breath that he could somehow bounce back and tug her forward, but when she looked up, he only mumbled, “soft.”

“For the price of my cleanser it better be.” She rose. “Into bed.”

“Hhmm.” He didn’t so much climb in as fall, but she ignored that, turning instead to pick up the clothes lying in a heap where he’d been standing. Luke made a disgruntled sound. “You.”

Mara put his folded pants on top of his tunic. “I am not your pillow.” She grabbed his belt and lightsaber, setting them neatly atop his clothes, and started on her own, still laying around from where he’d stripped her earlier.

“Space,” he pointed out, crankily. He made a useless, flailing gesture toward the other side of the bed.

“It would serve you right if I went home,” she reminded him, stacking her clothes neatly on the dresser.

She really should. He probably wouldn’t remember any of this anyway. Turning off the lights, she made her way back to the bed anyway. It was late. Disappointment and thwarted desire left her drained and unsatisfied, and the idea of riding the mav-lev like this, the too-bright lights, the crush of people, the silent, empty walls of her tiny apartment… Mara undid the belt of the robe, sliding it off her shoulders and draping it over the end of the bed. Crawling under the covers, she stretched out. Luke really did have a very comfortable bed.

There was a rustle, and then Mara jerked as Luke rolled directly into her personal space and latched his arms and legs around her like a Lew’elan star squid strangling its prey.

“Luke!”

The sound he made was somewhere between a moan, a mumble, and a sigh as he buried his head in the curve of her neck and went completely deadweight. Two seconds later, he was snoring again.

* * *

When the demands of nature nudged his body toward wakefulness, Luke tried to resist. He was comfortable. He was pressed against something warm and soft and pleasant smelling — something that felt, more importantly, like safety. When he could no longer ignore the need to get up, he gave in. Blinking the sand of sleep from his eyes, he realized to his confusion that he was wrapped around Mara.

He turned that over in his head as he stumbled to the ‘fresher, searching his muddled brain for memories. Oh. She’d been in his kitchen, he realized, as he relieved himself. Naked and happy and waiting for him. And he’d — his heart fell as he washed his hands. He’d managed to keep her, somehow, but — He blinked at himself in the mirror.

She’d stayed. Held him. He vaguely remembered her talking, the sound of her voice soothing and steadying as he’d nestled his head on her breasts, listening as much to her heartbeat as her words. She’d been real and alive and tangible and he’d anchored himself to her, a sanctuary in the face of everything else that beat at him. Moored himself in the security of her, when everything else felt desolate and cold. And she’d let him.

Slipping out of the ‘fresher, he grinned to himself as he snuck toward the kitchen for a glass of water. He remembered her griping, now — something about how he was roasting her, about not being his pillow. That wasn’t what she’d come for. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, considering as he gulped it.

She’d been happy. Luminous, even, and she’d come to him to celebrate. The thought made his chest squeeze with warmth and regret. Mentally, he traced the curve of her hip as she’d leaned over his counter the night before, offering her wine glass. Let his internal gaze linger on swell of her breasts, the way the light had caught the gold in her hair, the heat of her kiss her eyes had flickered — before she’d tried to brush it away, to suggest he was bored of her. She hadn’t been happy when he’d pulled her back to the table. Wouldn’t be happy when she woke this morning.

He wanted her to be. Wanted to see that bright, buoyant look again. Wanted her to come to him next time she was happy, too — every time. She wouldn’t, though. He stared at the takeout containers on the counter, face scrunching as his mind churned.

It was still delicate, this thing between them. Mara had made it clear enough that it wasn’t about the game, not really. But the game, Luke thought, putting his glass in the sink, made her feel safe, somehow. Made it okay to accept things she couldn’t allow herself outright.

Grinning, Luke headed back to the bedroom, his steps light. He knew exactly how to thank her, he decided. How to reward her for coming to him with her happiness in the first place, for staying when it was outside her comfort zone. How to make sure she came again. His cock twitched as his body responded to his mental plotting. Yes, he intended to make sure Mara Jade had a very good morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter so much, you guys! 💜


	19. Ch 18

Something itched against her lower back. Mara shifted her hand to scratch and ran into — a hand? She jerked awake, casting off her disorientation, opening her eyes in the darkened room. There was a quick shift beside her, a body curling around hers.

“Shh.”

 _Luke._ Mara relaxed and let herself drift, more aware, but reluctant to pull herself to total wakefulness. The sensation against her back didn’t feel like an itch anymore. It was a touch, a caress. She exhaled as it smoothed up to just under her nape, then back down. Back up. It stroked down the round of her shoulder, down her upper arm. The mattress dipped, Luke’s body solidly against her from her leg to her shoulder, the slide of his hand down her opposite hip. Mara hummed appreciatively, her hands tightening around her pillow.

Her hair being swept from her nape felt like another caress, so did the soft press of lips there. A hand cupped the curve of her ass, a soft squeeze.That started feeling like persuasion, but Mara pressed her face into her pillow. The mattress dipped again. Lips brushing down her spine, a hand trailing down her right side, shoulder to hip. She squirmed a little and felt Luke nudge her legs open to settle there, felt his cock hard against her bottom.

He’d slid forward and his mouth was by her left shoulder, unhurried kisses along her shoulder blade, up to the curve of her neck. She squirmed at the warmth of his breath at her neck, his lips sending a charged jolt through her. More awake she breathed out a laugh into her pillow, spreading her legs more, last night coming back to her. He hadn’t felt like it, but he’d asked her to stay —

He moved from her, but it was to kiss down her spine again, and further, both hands framing her hips, lips at her tail bone as his hands glided over the curve of her bottom. She tensed a little even as a wave of heat rolled through her. Would he grab her and lick at her like he’d done the first time? It’d been fine, just not what she’d preferred, being ass up with someone’s face there. Embarrassing.

But Luke had simply moved down to brush his lips against the back of her thighs, first one then the other, the softness of his lips making heat uncurl from her pelvis. She squirmed again at the drag of his mouth along the back of her knees, the stroke of his fingers along her inner thigh, and she felt it like a perfect high note when his hand slid between her legs.

“Luke,” she breathed, lifting her head up from the pillow, her hips pushing back against his hand, the friction like the crest of a wave as the wet slide of it across her. She rolled her hips, wanting more.

“Shhh.” He leaned a bit of his weight on her to drop a kiss below her shoulder blade. “I know what you need. Up.” He tapped at her hip.

And maybe it was the sleep fuzziness at the margins of her mind, or the frustration from the previous night, but a rough moan left her throat. “You,” she mumbled complying, “I need —” She broke off with another moan as his fingers rubbed across her clit. Mara spread her legs further.

Her breath caught when his fingers delved into her, a wash of sensation so bright her vision shimmered. The achingly slow pump of them drew out another moan. She rolled her hips and he made a small disapproving noise. “Easy.” He removed his hand.

She should protest, she thinks in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t muster a complaint as he slides behind her, the length of his body against her, lips by her nape, across her upper back. Her skin tingled to the point of feeling burning, but it’s the throb between her legs that has her gasping unthinkingly, “Please.”

Maybe she’d been conditioned. Luke moved back, fingers between her legs, another slow agonizing pump. She hears his hiss as he did it again, his voice husky when he said, “I love how you feel.”

Mara swallows, the oxygen feels short in her lungs, everything reduced to where his fingers slide slowly in and out.

“All of you,” he continues, and there’s more movement, the fingers gone. No, not gone. The head of his cock presses slightly, she leans back and he stills her with a tightening hand on her hip. “Wait.”

She breathed out a moan of protest that turned into a full blown whine as he rubs his cock against her making her squirm. He’s so close to being inside her, heat poured out of her, as she shoved her head into the pillow. Luke’s breath might be fast and harsh behind her but he just kept up the near-intolerable tease.

Mara had latched onto a whispered, “pleasepleaseplease” and had no idea how much torment she’s endured before Luke slid inside her — a slow languorous slide that pulls out a loud low moan from her. It helps and it doesn’t. That incredible feeling of him inside her sends pinpricks of sensation down to her toes, but he wasn’t _moving_. Her hips angle back, jolting, and Luke grasped both her hips.

“No. Be good.”

Sweat itched up on her temples. Luke leaned forward, the push inside her robbing the breath from her lugs. His arm ducked down to her abdomen, skimming her belly. Mara was about to raise herself on her arms, but she felt his chest against her back as he whispered in her ear breathlessly. “No, you stay. Like that.”

Without leverage, and Luke behind her fucking her like he could do this all morning, like there’s no rush, nothing past the feel of her around him, her damp skin under his hands, his lips when he trailed kisses along her shoulders. Another whine broke from her, another long slow thrust, a leisurely roll of his hips, and another, another. Her head swam, fizzy with sleep and pleasure.

She was making the most embarrassing sounds, but she could forgive anything from herself as Luke croons, “you’re so good” into her ear, his hand gliding between her legs, fingers working consummate magic. Either she’ll melt or take flight, she thought caught between the sharp build between her legs and the exquisite drag of his cock inside her. She’s fine with both, and when her breath hitched, her moans reducing to a series of wet gasps, it did seem like melting. She felt like a mass of limbs, even as he kisses along her nape.

“Turn over.” A kiss by her ear punctuates it, he shifts away. “I like looking at you.”

The smile across her face might be fuck drunk and stupid as she rolls to her back. She would feel self-conscious about the mess he left on her, but the way he kissed her wiped the thought from her mind. The way his lips captured hers had no hesitation, a kind of brazenness rather, as if he were entitled to it.

She raises her head slightly, responding in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair. When he broke the kiss, it was to sweep his lips down the hollow of her throat, down her breasts, the feeling, she managed to think as she arched like taut string, nothing like last night. He lowered his hand down her thigh and she wasn’t so far gone she didn’t make a face, even as she arched again.

Luke caught it and smirked at her. “What?”

Mara shook her head. “Gross.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You like things neat.”

She purses her lips at him and nods.

“Tidy.”

She nodded again. He settled between her legs and pushed in with one fluid stroke that made Mara gasp and close her eyes.

“Like your hair.”

Her hair? Mara opened her eyes and tilted her head. It was an odd thing to say and she lifted her hand to his cheek. “I thought you were going to fuck me, not talk about my hair.”

He folded a hand over her wrist, kissing her palm. A challenging glint came into his eyes as he took her hand and pressed it back to the pillow. Just that garnered a shove up from her hips, memories sharp from the last time he’d had her like this. His other hand closed around her other wrist, his weight pinning her down as he dropped his head to the crook of her neck. He left more a scratch of teeth than a kiss, but it made her moan and tilt her hips.

“I can do both,” he said -- nonsensically, she thought -- before he started moving again. It made no sense to her, how quickly a flush worked itself over her, how quick she was to moan. She had just come, she hadn’t even been that wound up, not this time.

It was just Luke, his weight on her, the stroke of him inside her, his eyes rapt on her face, the clumsy kisses they shared as he rocked his hips against her, the pace faster than before, but not the feverish intensity of the past times. She threw her head back and he pressed his lips there. It was like melting again, from inside out as he panted mindlessly, “Love how you feel, how you taste.”

She jerked against his hold, trembling as her climax washed over her. She was floating in the aftershocks registering hazily how his eyes held hers as he shoved in harder. It felt different, too, past the skin hunger, past the way he touched her, past the way he fucked her — like an ache right behind her ribs, but different from that, too. His eyes closed as his thrusts grew sloppy and he came with a drawn out grunt. His weight fell on her and she realized her hands were free. She wrapped them around him as he shifted half his weight off, kissing along her shoulder, her chin. That odd ache hadn’t gone away, if anything she only felt it more.

“It makes,” Luke panted, pausing to nose along her upper arm, “it makes you look distant.” He kissed along her neck.

“What in space are you talking about?”

His voice was muffled by her neck. “Your hair.”

Mara let out a peal of laughter that startled even her. “That’s the point,” she replied, rolling to her side to look at him. “It’s professional attire. I should look like I could get you good business.”

He slung an arm around her waist, Lew’elan star squid tendencies persistent even in wakefulness. She would say as much, but he interjected, “You do look like you could get good business.”

“Not the kind of business I want to have,” she quipped. The arm around her tensed and she threw Luke a puzzled look. “What?”

He smiled at her, sunny, but with a glimmer of a shadow. “I’m glad you stayed. I’m sorry about last night.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Everyone’s got off nights.”

He hauled her close. “I could...return the favor, you know?”

She flashed him a smile, looking up. “That wasn’t what this was?”

“This could be part of it,” he offered after a beat. “If you want to take your mind off things. But we could...not, if you don’t feel like it. If you’d only want someone around, that’s fine too.”

“I appreciate it.” Some dissatisfaction slipped from him at that, and she pulled away to meet his eyes. “I’m not like that. I don’t really feel comfortable with people when I’m...having an off night.” And part of her knew that wasn’t completely accurate. All the other times she’d come here had technically been off nights, and yet she couldn’t prevent the impulse of sectioning — those times were not really like what Luke was talking about. Those times weren’t like him yesterday.

Luke’s expression was guarded as he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “The offer stands for whenever.”

“Thank you,” Mara added. The mood felt decidedly changed and she sat up. “I’m going to,” she gestured to the fresher.

* * *

_[Luke gets a comm call requiring him to be somewhere promptly]_

“Yes, thank you.” Luke shut the comm off as he stepped into his bedroom, his eyes sliding appreciatively over Mara’s backside as she straightened up.

She had her own comm unit in hand and was frowning at it as she turned. “I can’t stay for caff.”

“Duty calls?” Luke ducked into his closet and grabbed a fresh tunic.

“Yes.” Mara shoved the comm in a pocket. “You, too, sounds like.”

“Always.” Luke pulled the shirt over his head, crossed to her. “You’ll come again?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist. “When you can?” He lifted a hand, trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “You’re always welcome here, Mara. For — for anything. Just — just to be, if you want.”

She shifted in the circle of his arms, something uncomfortable in her expression. “I told you, I don’t —”

“You don’t have to,” he interrupted, quickly, unhappiness knotting in his chest. He’d said it wrong. Pushed too hard, maybe. “I just want you to know you can, if you want, ever. Or —,” he could fix this. It wasn’t too late. He tugged her closer, slid one hand down, curved it over her bottom, pressed her into him. “Or you can just be naked in my kitchen again. Get bent over my counter…”

He watched her guarded expression soften, a smirk coming to her lips. “Yeah? Liked that did you?”

“You know I did.” He dipped his head, kissed her, slow and thorough, his tongue teasing hers until she was breathless. “Have a good morning, Jade.”

She was gone a few minutes later with a quick smile, the touch of her fingers grazing his cheek before she ducked out, but uncertainty lingered in his chest as he hurried through the rest of his morning ablutions. The sensation reminded him of having an Olabrian trichoid digging under his ribs. Mara had stayed, and she’d been happy, and he’d learned something valuable about her preferences, her likes. But under that — it just bothered him, was all. Something didn’t feel right.

 _Later,_ he told himself as he boarded the mag-lev. He could meditate on whatever it was that nagged at him on that front later. Right now, he needed his focus elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Ugh, the tenses are all over the place here. Ignore that please.


	20. Ch 19

Mara flicked through the resumes she had on file from the last round of hiring she’d done. She needed to replace Maite promptly, but she couldn’t afford to be hasty, either. Background checks would have to be strict to assure the Trade Bureau that she was prioritizing security. Her budget wasn’t enormous, either, which meant she was walking a fine line when it came to hiring someone with the skills and experience she needed who wasn’t also somehow a problem child no one else wanted.

Two Twi’leks came off her working list immediately. They’d been snapped up by Senator X’s office. She’d be livid if Mara swept in and stole them and she couldn’t afford to make enemies right now. She crossed a Bothan off the list because he’d listed Fey’lya as his first reference. Borsk still loathed Talon for his involvement in the Wayland affair and the last thing Mara needed on her staff was someone with divided loyalties or a predisposition to view their carriers as untrustworthy rabble. There was an x who looked promising, and a x and a x with potential. All currently employed in the larger NR or local governmental systems, but not in departments she couldn’t afford to cannabalize from or places that would have tainted them against the SA.

Tagging them for further research, she rubbed her eyes. The extra hours she’d been putting in to keep things running smooth as glass since Maite’s firing were taking their toll and this promised to be another long night. She needed more caff. Not the casual stuff they could make in the office, either. Javarican espresso — at least a triple shot.

Rising, she headed out of her office, stopping at Klinu’s desk on her way past. “Here’s the updated list of potentials,” she handed the data pad over. “See if you can get us any additional information on these candidates before we start comming for interviews. I’m stepping out a moment — I won’t be long.”

“Of course.” Klinu gave her a tired smile. “Caf break?”

Mara nodded, giving a tight lipped smile of her own. “I know. You don’t approve.”

Klinu laughed. “I just don’t know how you survive is all. You must have more caff than blood in your veins these days.”

_You don’t eat enough._ Luke’s voice was chiding in her head and Mara suppressed a wince. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew she’d skipped two meals today in favor of caf. Then again, he probably wasn’t happy anyway — he’d texted twice in the last few days, and she hadn’t remembered to reply until it was nearly the middle of the night. Not wanting to wake him, she’d waited… and forgotten again.

“We can sleep when we’re dead, right?” she said, trying for a flippant tone and not quite making it to her own ears. She’d had instructors that lived by that premise. She didn’t want to think about them, either. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Don’t hurry,” Klinu waved. “It’d be good for you to stretch your legs.”

The Parlour was a slightly pretentious tapcaff four levels above the SA office suite. Paneled in warm borlwood with classical opera humming out of concealed speakers at all hours of day and night, it was tiny and pricy. It was also the only place in the entirety of the southwest wing of the complex that knew how to make a properly pulled, un-watered-down javarican espresso.

“The usual ma’am?” the fresh-faced [alien] behind the counter asked, cheerfully.

“Four shots today, please. Two sugars.”

“Half a shot of cream, still?”

“Double that, too.” Long as her hours were, things were going well and she could afford to splurge. “On my tab, as usual.”

The sleek machine behind the counter started grinding and whirring and Mara inhaled the aroma of fresh roasted beans. For all that she’d been grateful to Talon for the work and security he’d given her, she’d missed Coruscant’s little luxuries while crisscrossing the galaxy as his Second.

Mara felt another being approach and side-stepped politely, clearing the space directly in front of the ordering counter.

“Long night ahead, Liaison Jade?”

She turned, sharply. A human male, tall, slender, and polished, smiled at her politely. Corner table, her mind supplied. He’d been sitting with his back to her when she arrived, bent over a data pad. Sweeping her eyes over him now, she searched her memory. She knew that face.

“Mister X.” Mara folded her arms, kept her voice civil but cool. Shavit. This was not what she needed right now.

“I know you’ve been busy,” he inclined his head, still with that polite smile. “You haven’t been able to take any of my comms.”

“I don’t need what you’re selling,” she said shortly.

“With respect, Madam Liaison,” he replied, assertively, “you do, and I have the research to prove it.”

“Your espresso, ma’am.” [Barista] piped up.

“Thank you.” Mara collected her drink and turned on her heel.

“Is there a reason you’re so averse to hearing us out?” X asked, falling into step beside her as she stalked back toward the lift.

“Unlike too many people, I actually had to study history when I was young.” Mara shot a dark sideways glance at him. “I know what lobbyists did to the Old Republic. I knew a few in the Imperial years, too.” She shook head in disgust. “Scum squids. All of them.”

“I see.” Like most politicians, Mara noticed, he didn’t seem to take the insult personally. “I... regret that your previous experiences were unfortunate.” He cocked his head, keeping pace with her. “If you studied history, Liaison, then you must know why lobbying began in the first place.”

“I know what excuses they used.” Mara jabbed the call button for the lift. “I also know that the whole reason the galaxy ended up under the Imperial thumb was that the Old Republic rotted from the inside out,” she spat, acidly. “Would you like to try to convince me that your kind had nothing whatsoever to do with that, Mister X?”

“No,” he said, simply. “I’m not here to debate history, Liaison.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a data chip and handed it to her. “Regardless of your unfortunate past experiences, I assure you my firm has only the best interests of the New Republic and your Alliance at heart. Please,” he proffered the chip again as the lift chimed. “Give me the benefit of the doubt long enough to review our proposal. If you’ve genuinely no interest after, my colleagues and I won’t waste any more of your time.” He smiled again, an amused little quirk that made her temper rise. “If you change your mind, we’ll take no offense to your previous… dismissals.”

The lift door slid open and Mara huffed. “I’ll hold you to that.” Snatching the chip from his hand, she stormed inside the lift, leaving him standing in the corridor alone as the doors snicked shut.

* * *

“You hear they’re trying to get Cracken on the stand?”

Luke rolled his glass of Whyren’s between his palms. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, but the Hearing was top of everyone else’s list these days. Always. “Yeah. Leia mentioned.”

“Gonna be ugly,” Han predicted, lounging in the deep, nut-brown, nerf-hide chair across from him. He eyed Luke. “Not any uglier than the visit you took to the Palace, though, huh? Media was all over it — you made a lot of friends with that little stunt you pulled, jumpin’ off the gunship.”

“It wasn’t a stunt,” Luke said, immediately. He dropped his eyes back to his drink. “If you could have felt them, Han — so much hope and pain, just — just everywhere.” He bit his lip. “It was… like being back in the war. After a battle. The way the hangars would feel when we landed. Everyone on the ground thrilling every time another ship touched down, grieving for every new empty space, all at once. But — so many. I couldn’t — I couldn’t ignore them.” He blew out a breath. “There’s already too much of a disconnect.”

“What, between the Commission and the victim groups, you mean?”

“Between me,” Luke waved a hand, irritably, “— and everyone. The Jedi lived here, too. This was their home. They loved this place — it’s in the records. I’ve told you —”

“I remember,” Han neatly cut off that line of ranting. “But it ain’t been that way in decades, Kid. You can’t get it back overnight.”

“I’m not going to get it back at all if things don’t change,” Luke groused. “This is the first place this week I’ve been allowed to set foot without a minder.” Mara’s face crossed his mind and he felt his lips quirk. “Well, aside from my apartment."

“Uh huh.” Han raised an eyebrow. “An’ what’re you doing over there that’s interesting?”

“Nothing,” Luke said quickly, taking a sip of his drink to cover. His heart rate picked up a little. Did he dare tell Han about Mara?

“Right,” Han drawled, obviously amused. “Kid, we’ve been over this. You’re terrible at Sabacc and I’ve seen that grin before. You’re doin’ something interesting, so fess up. What — you got an experimental new engine for your x-wing you’re workin’ on in there or something?”

“You can’t tell Leia.” Luke felt a twinge of guilt, but his sister would be relentless about finding out Mara’s identity if she caught wind that he was seeing someone. The women liked each other, but this was not the best time to work through the inevitable challenges that would come with making their relationship “official” with his family.

“Okay,” Han agreed easily, rolling up to sit forward.

“I’m… seeing someone.” Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as the words passed his lips. It was too late to take them back now.

Han’s eyebrows went up. “Okay, not what I expected.” Before Luke had time to decide if he should be offended, he continued, “someone I know?”

“I… can’t tell you who she is. Not yet.”

“A secret, huh?” Han didn’t seem offended. “Tryin’ to protect her from the Hearing mess?”

“It’s… new,” Luke said carefully, trying to measure his words around the urge to just blurt everything to his friend. “For both of us. And she’s… well,” he ducked his head. “She hasn’t been treated well in the past.”

“Skittish,” Han nodded with a knowing grimace. “Happens.” He smiled, encouragingly. “You’ll bring her around, though.”

“I want to,” he said, sincerely, looking up again. He knew his heart was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help it. “She _sees_ me, Han. I feel… normal, when she’s around. Happy.”

“That’s good, Luke. You deserve it.” He gestured. “Bein’ happy.” He cocked his head. “Can’t imagine you get to see her much with the schedule you’re keepin’, though.”

“Not as much as I’d like.” Luke shrugged. “Her work is pretty demanding, too. But I text comm her a lot and she comes by when she can.” He smiled. “Usually surprises me with dinner. It’s not ideal, but we’re making it work.”

“Well,” Han allowed, “comm’s aren’t a bad way to keep in touch. Leia and I commed a lot when we were in separate places.”

Luke chuckled. “Yeah. We’ve got a ways to go to that.”

“Whadda ya mean?”

Luke snorted. “She’s… not very good at texting back yet. It’s okay,” he added quickly, seeing Han’s brow furrow. “She will. She just needs time — she’s never had a relationship like this before.”

“Uh huh. Well,” Han leaned back again. “Not everybody likes comms. Some people never do learn to use ‘em for more than makin’ dinner plans. When do you get to see her next?”

“I dunno.”

Han frowned. “Yeah? Her schedule extra squirrelly right now or somethin’?”

“We’re not there yet.” It sounded awkward coming out of his mouth and Luke suppressed a cringe. “I’m sure it’ll be soon, though,” he explained, quickly. “She comes over pretty regularly. It’s not a casual thing.”

“She just comes over,” Han said, his frown deepening. “Whenever she wants. No,” he gestured. “Comming or something before? Or between or whatever?”

“She’s busy.”

“Right.” Han took a slow sip of his drink. “An’ she’s good with you just droppin’ in on her like that, too? I mean, if it works for you —”

“No, no, I don’t.” Luke shook his head. “She comes to me. She’s more comfortable that way, and I don’t mind.”

Han was silent a minute, a funny look on his face. “Is this… an open kind of thing?” he asked, curiously. “Cuz if it is, you know, that’s fine, I just didn’t expect —”

“What?” Luke startled, jostling his drink and then scrambling to readjust his hold so he didn’t spill it all over himself. “No! No of course not! We’re not — we don’t — she wouldn’t,” he spluttered, managing to even his voice out to something coherent and firm on the end. “It’s not like that. We’re just… going slow, that’s all.”

Hearing it out loud, he could see how Han might have misinterpreted it. But there wasn’t any way to explain about the way Mara had hugged him in his shower, the buoyancy of her standing naked in his kitchen, the way she’d stayed when he needed her. 

“I don’t mean to doubt you,” Han said, slowly, “but just keep your eyes open, all right? Don’t let this girl get you so worked up you miss red flags — if they show up,” he finished, hurriedly, slanting his tone toward casual and smiling to take the sting out of the words. “You’ve got a lot goin’ on,” he added, for good measure. “I just don’t want someone taking advantage. You know how it is.”

Luke thought of Mara, the way she’d shied away from his offer of company and comfort if she needed it. “She won’t.” He shook his head, certain. “When I can bring her around, you’ll see. It’s good between us. Honest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end to this is weird and abrupt and in an ideal world I'd have bridged it more neatly but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, please note that everything in this chapter is going to be important... [ominous music plays]


End file.
